


The Truth Comes Out

by dailyandgaily



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Lance teases Keith a lot, M/M, Minor Hunay, Oblivious Pining, Secrets are Revealed, Truth Serum, and flirting, and two boys being idiots, but I swear it's worth it, but i promise it's a happy end, but take it how you like, don't lie you love these tags, i like how the description ends so dramatically but then you accidentally glance at the tags, it's pretty gay, major miscommunication, minor shallura, no like you'll be tearing your hair out, oh shit there's some angst tho, really it's just a lot of fluff, that sounded more sexual than i intended, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2018-11-18 10:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 100,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyandgaily/pseuds/dailyandgaily
Summary: The Paladins accidentally overdose on Altean truth serum, making them unable to hold back their true thoughts and feelings. The nightmare worsens when one of the Paladins reveals their crush… in front of their crush. Things begin to get out of hand, and if the problem isn’t addressed soon, Voltron will suffer.Or, without sounding intoxicatingly melodramatic: Keith gets roped into admitting how willing he is to date Lance without meaning to. Cue Lance’s teasing—which he inevitably takes too far—and ends up getting a taste of his own medicine. Despite the two’s constant back-and-forth, their inability to communicate is putting a divide between the team, and everyone’s on edge. After all, when two of the five defenders of the galaxy are obliviously pining gays, who can blame them?





	1. oh no

**Author's Note:**

> before anything else, special shout out to @bluediamondsandtea on tumblr. this whole ~~crack~~ fic started from one of their posts, and i just thought it’d be fun to mess around with the idea. 
> 
> also a quick shoutout to my editor Not_Happening, she’s literally the best and helps me get my shit together on a daily basis <3 
> 
> now let’s get to what you actually came for,  
> hope you enjoy :)

“I’m calling it now, this is a _bad_ idea.” 

Allura and Coran had eagerly rounded up the Paladins just minutes ago, going on about a new bonding technique. Allura had explained, announcing the manipulative effects of the clear, sparkling liquid on the table before them. Coran held the aqueous material in a crystal pitcher, now pouring out small portions into five cups. 

“No, no!” exclaimed Allura, Coran passing each Paladin a filled cup as the princess waved her hands. “Not in the slightest, Hunk. I promise, this amount of serum will only force you to say one truth.”

“ _How_ exactly is this going to ‘help’ us?” Pidge remarked, giving Allura a dubious look. 

Allura smile reappeared. “Each of you must tell another one thing you admire about them.”

“And if we have nothing nice to say?” Pidge cut in again, her arms crossing over her chest. Allura’s smile tightened, but didn’t falter. Before she could reply, Shiro placed a decisive hand on Pidge’s shoulder, returning the princess’s smile.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” he stated. His tone had been overtaken by his fatherly side, to which Pidge only sighed. The rest of the Paladins knew it was fruitless to try to argue; Shiro was impossible when he was in dad mode. As to prove his point, Shiro took his drink, throwing it back with ease.

“Okay, fine,” Pidge sighed, giving in and taking her glass. “One thing though—are there any side effects we should know about?” Allura frowned, her head turning to look at Coran. He too wore a similar distressing expression.

“Well,” Coran started, “it’s nothing for you to worry about!” At seeing the Pidge’s sour expression, he went on. “In large amounts, it does cause a wee immediate death—but don’t panic! We made sure to give you each a tiny, diluted mixture.” Despite Coran’s reassurances, the atmosphere turned tense. 

“Oh—“ Shiro broke the silence, looking down at his empty cup. “In that case, how much do I need to drink for a lethal dose?” 

Pidge snickered, but Keith loathed the jokes. Shiro was an important member of this team, and his constant disappearing wasn’t doing good for Keith’s health. “Shiro, _no,_ ” Keith berated under his breath, shaking his head. Allura and Coran just passed each other looks once more, this time sharing confused gestures. Keith didn’t blame them, humans were weird. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that their habits would be just as strange. 

Keith stared down at his drink, gently swishing it around. The bubbles seemed to multiply at the motion, and his curiosity stole the better of him. He looked over at the others; Hunk was sniffing the liquid, while Pidge glared at the drink, and Lance… 

Lance had already finished his.

“It’s sweet,” Lance commented, his features morphing with peculiar interest. 

Keith decided to take his chances. Bringing the solution up to his lips, he took a hesitant sip. Lance, against all odds, had been telling the truth. The liquid acted like syrup, clumped together and flowing like molasses—though molasses wasn’t quite as sweet. The taste was slightly addicting, and Keith found himself chugging down the rest. By the time he returned the drink to the table, Hunk and Pidge had joined him. 

“Okay, well, feel free to give a compliment now.” Allura implored. “The tonic acts instantly on entrance of the body.” 

Shiro nodded in compliance, moving to face Pidge. She rose a brow. “I greatly value your intelligence and technical aptitude.” 

Pidge snorted. “Seriously? Even your compliments have sticks shoved up their asses.” Shiro’s gasp, howbeit quiet, remained heard by everyone. 

“Language!” 

Keith heard Hunk and Lance crack up, attempting to hide their laughter and failing horribly. The overly amused giggles pinged a thought at Keith. _Can we get drunk off this?_

“And you wonder why we call you Space Dad,” Pidge added, smirking. She didn’t stay under Shiro’s glare long, slinking off to lie on the couch. 

“Don’t try to get out of this, Katie!” Shiro reprimanded. Keith watched Pidge flinch, her real name used when Shiro needed to be heard. “We’re in the middle of a training session, you can’t opt out.” Pidge just shrugged. 

“Actually,” Allura chimed to an exasperated Shiro, “that technically counts as her truth. The first words to leave your mouth after ingesting the drink are always guaranteed true. After that I cannot ensure anything.” 

Shiro sighed, this time turning to the laughing duo to this left. Hunk noticed instantly, clearing his throat in a weak attempt to conceal his last chuckle. “You’re a great leader, Shiro.” An unexpected flash of mischief crossed Hunk’s eyes, and he added, “Even when you’re flirting with Allura.” 

Lance kept laughing without shame, and Keith couldn’t help but grin at seeing their leader blush. It started out as a joke, pairing the two of them together. However with time, though subtle at first, the rest of the team began to notice the two’s connection. If Keith was honest, he was envious of their relationship. He could only dream of being so lucky. 

Keith turned to look at Lance, who had just regained his fragile self-control. The sentence left him before he could halt himself. “You know, Lance, when you’re not being a complete jerk, you’re actually pretty likable.” Lance’s remnants of laughter had ceased entirely, his gaze snapping over to connect with Keith’s. His intense blue eyes had gone wide, and Keith felt the knot of panic inside him tighten. It wasn’t long after that the rest of the crew joined in on the staring. 

Hands clapping together were his saving grace, and he gratefully turned away to look at Allura, whose hands were now clasped together in glee. “See, this was a wonderful idea!” Keith didn’t dare look back at Lance. He could feel those sharp blue eyes on him anywhere. 

“ _I_ think…” Lance said, his voice higher than normal. Keith didn’t want to look, he really didn’t, but hearing what Lance said trumped his distress. “Keith is an idiot.” His anxiety plummeted, compressing into a heavy ball of predictable disappointment. Lance hated him, and even though he knew it would never change, Keith kept on hoping it would. 

_He’s right, I am an idiot._

“Thanks,” Keith shot back, his look hardening into glare. He didn’t need this, so he turned to face a shocked Allura. “Coming here just to be insulted when we could spend our time prepping to fight the Galra. Really, thanks.” He didn’t wait for a response, he just left. 

—

It took an hour for each of them to start noticing something was off. 

Pidge realized first, her snide, insulting comments no longer coming out the way she wanted. She lost her gall, and she was not standing for it. Hunk was with her, working on the lions, when it hit her. 

“The serum.” 

Aftering explaining her rough idea, Hunk was inclined to agree. Together, they had gone to confront Allura. The second group meeting was called soon after. 

“Wh—you said it wouldn’t last!” Lance shrieked. “ _One_ comment, that’s it!” 

“How long is it going it last?” Shiro asked, a question Pidge could appreciate. He was thinking ahead—thinking about how this would affect Voltron. 

Allura grimaced. “I’m… I’m not sure.” Lance and Pidge broke out into full-out yelling, whether it be about what to do next or approximately how screwed they were, Hunk and Keith went pale, leaving Shiro as the only calm Paladin. 

Coran’s voice loudly interrupted the chaos, the harsh tone so unfamiliar it stunned them all into silence. “Paladins! We could not have predicted the tonic working so differently on humans compared to Alteans. Now we cannot change this mistake, but we can figure out what’s happening, and see how long it’ll take for the effects to wear off.” No one had expected Coran to be the one who took control of the situation, much less come up with a plan in the middle of such a huge argument. It was surprising, but they were better off for it. This was just one of the many miracles they needed. 

The princess grimace softened into a plain look, and she drew in a deep breath. “Okay, for now I need one of you to go into a pod for analysis overnight, and the rest of you need to get some rest. It’s been a long day, and you’ll need your energy for tomorrow.” No one argued after that, even Pidge felt exhausted. 

_Maybe that’s a side effect?”_

“I’ll go.” 

Pidge’s head whipped around as Keith stepped forward, an impassive air about him. It was a far cry from his normal brooding self. She didn’t know him long, she probably knew him the least compared to the others, but the one thing she did know was when Keith was upset. With him volunteering, Allura rushed the rest of them to bed. 

Before Pidge obeyed, she waged a little bet with Hunk.

_I’m about to win ten bucks._

—

Lance was hovering. 

He knew he was doing it, at least, but he couldn’t stop. His feet had led him to the healing pods, where Keith had stayed overnight. It was early according to Earth time, and he barely winked before he was pushed towards the room. 

_Why am I even here?_

Keith wasn’t hurt, and there was no reason to be freaking out as much as Lance was. He continued to pace the closed entrance, one hand stroking his chin. Keith was just taking a nap, essentially, which would help them figure out this whole truth serum business. 

_Truth serum._

That had to be the reason. Lance embraced his ability to talk non-stop, but even he had a limit. There were some moments where he needed to be alone with his thoughts, like when he was reminded of his family waiting back on Earth, or when he’s reminded of how useless he could be. Those fractions of time shut him down and at times he couldn’t muster the strength to fight back. He had to be the team’s farceur, otherwise he really was worthless. So if he had the option to hide that portion of himself and keep up the façade for the team, he was going to do it. 

_That’s why,_ he convinced himself. _Not for Keith._

He stepped forward, the buds of restlessness blossoming internally and pressing against his skin. The automatic doors slid apart, a burst of chilling air being thrust at Lance as he moved inside. Lance was only a few feet in when he realized Keith’s pod was up, exposing a sleeping Keith. He wasn’t wearing the suit Lance had after he’d been injured, but remained in his own clothes. It made sense, considering Keith wasn’t near death or wearing damaged armor. Lance stopped in his tracks, noticing a petite figure sitting on the steps in front of the pod.

“Pidge?” 

The girl turned around, bundled up on the floor in a blanket and her computer in her lap. Lance quickened his pace and dropped down to sit beside her, crossing his legs. Her bright screen shone dancing letters and numbers inputted in various equations Lance didn’t care to understand. Pidge’s hazel eyes squinted up at him, readjusting her glasses—with her middle finger, of course. It had become a routine way of greeting, and it happened so often he’d get nervous if she forgot. 

“Of course it’s you,” she mumbled before turning back to her screen. 

Lance had given up the futile attempt at stopping this new curse of his. At this point he only prayed no one would ask unwanted questions. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Pidge gave him an incredulous sideways glance. “In simple terms for you to understand? Keith. Healing pod. Truth serum,” she paused. “You’re panicking more than the others, and that’s why you’re here. You’re impatient and worried.” 

“I am _not,_ ” rebuked Lance. “You’re right about the truth serum part, but it’s got nothing to do with Keith.” Albeit he was arguing against that fact, he felt his gaze drawn away from her and towards a particular annoying mullet. 

From his peripheral, he could see Pidge roll her eyes. “Nothing to do with Keith, huh? Then tell me, why did you call him an idiot earlier?”

The answer rolled off his tongue, “Because he is.”

Pidge let out a short, displeased sound. “Thank you for being so specific. Feel free to elaborate anytime.” Her final statement hadn’t been a suggestion, as her tone implied she expected it more than hoped for it. Even so, Lance wasn’t budging. It wasn’t something she needed to know. He kept his eyes glued on Keith, frowning, even as Pidge went on. 

“You up for a game?” 

The edges of his frown deepened. “What?” His gaze once again tore away from the mullet, snapping to meet Pidge’s grin. 

“Lance, truth or dare?” 

A wave of hesitance struck Lance in the stomach, and he stared. She had to want him to choose dare, since she could make him tell the truth regardless of the game and its mechanics. Pidge wouldn’t play this game just to ask Lance a question, right?

“Truth.” 

He was so wrong. 

“If you had to date anyone on the team, who would you date?” Lance had been asked this question before, by Pidge specifically, and always changed his answer. Sometimes it was Hunk if he was feeling hungry, Allura if he was feeling particularly cocky, or even Shiro. The dude had killer abs. Despite his varying responses, he never answered truthfully, regardless of the game or the bets. This time was different, though. He didn’t miss a beat. 

“Keith.” 

His heart so kindly decided to skip a beat for him, causing the blood in his veins to lose their nerve and flush Lance’s cheeks. Pidge’s token smirk always meant something of amusement was going on, but it was never a good sign when it was directed at him. 

“ _Oh?_ ” she shuffled closer to Lance. “Strange, considering you’ve never used that as your response before. So then, tell me, how exactly does one like an idiot more than his best friend or some hot chick?” 

Lance felt his shoulders lift defensively as if he was back in middle school, pretending to be a boxer and bracing for a hit. “I didn’t—Keith isn’t an idiot.” 

Pidge rose a brow, the artificial light from her computer making her grin much more menacing than it should have been. “Why’d you call him one then? You were telling the truth, like we all have for the past twenty-four hours, so did he do something to piss you off?” 

“Yeah?” muttered Lance, looking up at an unconscious Keith. He never really thought about Keith, or rather he shoved any thought that reared its head as far away as he could. “God, Pidge, I don’t know, okay? I just—I’m tired and I wanna know how long this thing is going to last so I can hopefully sleep through it.” 

An almost noiseless chuckle left the girl beside him. “Day one and you’re already having a panic attack.” 

The opening of the doors behind them drew their attention back. Their heads turned in unison to see Allura with Shiro and Hunk by her side, mild surprise pressing against their features. Lance felt himself tense as the princess spoke. 

“Did you get _any_ sleep whatsoever?” Lance and Pidge shared a quick glance, then looked back at Allura to nod. She sighed, shaking her head and strolled over to Keith’s pod, her hands moving across the screens with practiced elegance. Her eyes narrowed at the signals. “Pidge, you were indeed correct. The effects of the serum last longer.” 

“How much longer?” Shiro inquired, stepping between Lance and the pod. Something twisted inside him, and he scooted to the side. _I should get to see him too._

Allura frowned, staring at the bizarre symbols cluttering the blue screen. “You’re not going to like this but… around a week.” Pidge groaned into her blanket, sinking deeper into it, and Hunk just sighed. Lance couldn’t understand such plain reactions while he couldn’t breathe. That long telling the truth? He was going to slip up for sure. 

“Paladins,” Shiro warned, his tone harsh. “We can handle a week. It could be worse. As long as we don’t say anything we regret,” he looked down at Lance, and Lance gave him his most offended look in return. “We’ll survive.” 

“I’m releasing Keith, please give him some space,” Allura commanded with a press of the button. The pod hissed open, and the sudden reappearance of those dark eyes stole Lance’s breath. He stumbled forward, straight into Shiro’s arms. Lance grit his teeth at the sight. 

“Wh-Allura,” Keith moved away from Shiro, regaining his balance. “What are the results?” 

“One week,” she nodded. Lance took in Keith’s immediate, horrified expression. He huffed, rolling his eyes as he looked away. _What could he possibly be worried about?_ Allura didn’t seem to notice; her back was already turned, returning the empty healing pod back into the ground. “I must attend to other issues in the castle. Good luck Paladins.” 

The princess left the room, leaving the five of them alone. No one knew how to continue the day, even Shiro was standing in quiet thought. Lance’s gaze left the abandoned area Allura had been mere moments ago, stopping at Keith. He almost choked; Keith was staring right at him, and he did not look perky. 

“Keith, you’re just in time,” Pidge told him. “All of you are, in fact.” Keith’s heart-stopping stare hovered before leaving Lance, turning to eye Pidge. 

“For what?” 

“We’re playing truth or dare,” she explained, her grin resurfacing. Shiro gave her a look, and she threw her hands up in the air. “Hey! It’d be a good way to _bond._ ” Keith flinched from the corner of Lance’s eye. 

Their team leader didn’t respond at first, then sighed. “Pidge is right, this could be a helpful team exercise—but no one can ask inappropriate questions.” 

“Okay!” hummed Pidge, her eyes narrowing in amusement. “Me first. Shiro, truth or dare?” In that moment, Shiro seriously underestimated her, his answer telling it all. Either that or Shiro really did have a death wish. 

“Dare.” 

“Finally,” let out Pidge. “Okay, I dare you to go ask out Allura.” 

Giggles and horribly concealed laughter broke out as bright pink flushed Shiro’s cheeks, and he twisted his head to look at the door Allura had left through. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he turned back to Pidge. “ _Pidge, _” wheezed Shiro. “That—I’m not—I’m leaving.” Pidge was on the floor now, laughing louder than the rest of them.__

__Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad week after all._ _

__—_ _

__This was going to be a _horrible_ week. _ _

__Keith had a tense wave of anxiety wash over him when he stepped out of the pod. It wasn’t the atmosphere, which had significantly lightened after Pidge started her game. The Paladins—minus Shiro, who had gone to ‘help the princess with battle plans’—sat together in a small circle. They asked each other weird, random questions or dared the other to do ridiculous and simple tasks._ _

__“Hunk, truth or dare?” Lance asked, giving him a suggestive look._ _

__“Uh… dare?”_ _

__Lance sighed, bringing on the dramatics. “ _Hunk…_ you were supposed to say truth.” Hunk raised an eyebrow. _ _

__“I picked dare.”_ _

__Lance gave another sigh, heftier this time. “Fine. I dare you to tell me the truth.” Hunk’s hands shot out in an exasperated gesture._ _

__“No, Lance, that’s—“_ _

__Lance grinned, pushing himself closer into the circle. “Do you like Shay?” Hunk blushed, his annoyed look becoming an awkward, sheepish smile. He gave a weak laugh._ _

__“W-well, yeah… she’s really nice…”_ _

__Lance shoved Hunk in the shoulder, his smile bright and supportive. Keith wished Lance didn’t hate him so fervently. Lance’s smiles could change the air of an entire room, and Keith couldn’t understand why no one else admired him as much as Keith did. He knew he’d never be on the receiving end of one of Lance’s smiles, but that was okay. Keith could watch from a distance._ _

__“Dude, ask her out!” Hunk shuffled in place, his smile gradually growing at the encouragement._ _

__Keith’s attention was drawn away when something nudged his side. Pidge had poked him, and when he faced her, he understood where his apprehension came from. She wasn’t smirking, but there was a clear shiftiness behind those glasses._ _

__“Keith, truth or dare?” she challenged._ _

__He shot her a confused look, unsure of her angle was or why she was the origin of his anxiety. What he did know, however, was that he didn’t want to give Pidge the ability to force his hand. He knew what Pidge was capable of, and there was no way he’d give her that power over him._ _

__“Truth.”_ _

__That expected grin finally broke free, making Keith’s confusion inflame. _Why would she want me to pick truth?_ Keith had to tell the truth for the next week, she could ask him anything and know he was being honest. _What’s so important about her asking right now?__ _

__“Would you date Lance?”_ _

__Keith’s heart caught in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. The cognizance of his surroundings were strengthened, and he was acutely aware of the compressing force of all eyes on him. He desperately hoped that force excluded a certain pair of ocean blue eyes._ _

__He spoke without missing a beat, responding so rapidly he didn’t get the chance to attempt to stop himself. “Duh.”_ _

__His body had become home to a flash-fire, blitzing upwards until hitting his face and flaming his cheeks. The warmth rose to smoldering temperatures in an instant, and Keith was engulfed by his own embarrassment. He wanted nothing more than to be abandoned by his body and pretend this never happened._ _

__Pidge’s glee had only grown with Keith’s divulgence, looking to the side at someone Keith couldn’t see. He couldn’t help it—he followed her gaze. Keith would have felt relieved to know she had been glancing over at Hunk, but his next revelation threw any hope of respite out the airlock._ _

__Lance was gawking at him._ _

__The floor gave way then, not to swallow Keith up but rather to laugh at his Freudian slip. Hunk had never been more right, this was the worst possible idea that their team had carried out—which was saying something. Though the ground refused to take him in, Lance’s eyes did it instead, and Keith found himself drowning in blue._ _

___Oh no._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> please feel free to tell me what you think so far in the comments below,  
> i appreciate hearing ur thoughts!


	2. hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so real quick i just wanted to say _holy shit_ you guys. this received way more attention than i thought possible? but seriously thank u, each and every one of u, for clicking on this fic! 
> 
> also, for those of you wondering, _yes_ this is gonna be a series. not sure where it’s going if i’m honest but i’m excited to see what happens :)

Lance wouldn’t stop staring. 

Pidge was grinning with smug self-satisfaction. 

Hunk looked as horrified as Keith felt. 

Scratch that, Hunk was just a fraction of the gnawing terror inside Keith. 

_Oh god—I am screwed._

Pidge leaned over to Hunk and nudged him, shooting an expectant look. Even in his shell-shocked state, Keith recognized her expression. That same look was the reason he was out of thirty bucks if they ever got back to Earth. 

“You _bet_ on me?” Keith croaked. 

The small, unprincipled ball of evil glanced back at him, shrugging. Her unmitigated nonchalance for his secret—or really, lack of it now—made his blood boil for reasons other than sheer embarrassment. Keith looked down, clenching his fists. 

“Thanks,” _for humiliating me. I’m so glad we’re friends,_ he almost finished, but remained silent. His panic was beginning to settle, giving way to the flood of frustration and anger deep within his gut. He needed to get away from all this—from Lance’s open-mouthed staring in particular. 

Keith stood up in one swift movement, refusing to meet any more gaping eyes. He didn’t wait for a response, he didn’t want to. Keith left without another thought. 

No one stopped him. 

He hadn't expected them to. 

Keith let his feet guide him across the castle, his pace hurried but without destination. His head and chest still thrummed from the dwindling whirlwind of shock, hurt, and anger. The halls he wandered seemed to take upon a darker, quiet aura that chilled Keith to the bone, reminding him how lonely the castle was. 

His gaze fell to the floor, all his concentration now internalized. He brought his hands up to his face, not caring if he slammed face-first into a wall anymore. _I couldn’t even last a_ day. _You’ve got to be kidding me._ Keith knew Lance despised his guts with a burning passion. It made Keith wonder if his lion’s ice powers were really that fitting for the blue paladin. 

He hadn’t realized his hands had been shaking until he heaved in a breath, just as unstable as his body. The panic was setting in again, his slip-up snapping at him from the back of his head, an unending, mocking hell. 

Keith smacked straight into a hard, immovable wall, jerking back. He looked up, expecting to see just that, but rather another living person. Keith’s mouth was slightly ajar, as if to let out a gasp, but was stunned into silence. 

“Ah! Keithy, my boy,” a bright smile half-obscured by a ginger mustache. “Have you seen the mice, by chance?” 

“No,” he muttered, looking away as a frown grew on him. A strange silence followed, unlike the one he had walked through moments before. There was the strong sensation of a stare beating down on him, and he almost shivered at such intense attention. 

“Keith?” Concern sparked the call of his name.

Keith’s eyes were drawn away from the floor and up to the man, his gaze narrowed. His chipper smile had faded, replaced by an earnest look that was so serious it was unnerving. 

“Yes?” he asked, trying to summon all the resolution he could in his panic. 

“What’s the matter?” 

The accustomed response on his tongue was to blow it off, shrugging away any need to vent his irritation or the desire to scream that was stuck in his throat. He had almost forgotten he couldn’t do that anymore. Explanations fled him at the ready, each word tugged from him like a brick pulled from foundation, leaving him to crumble. 

“Because of the _stupid_ truth serum thing I ended up telling Hunk, Pidge, and _Lance_ that I’d love to go on a date with Lance, which was so freaking dumb, and I ruined whatever relationship—rivalry—whatever, we had, and now he’s going to hate me even more than he did before—and he’s probably going to make fun of me for it, and—oh god, Coran. I messed up so bad. Why did I—“A firm hand came down on his shoulder, and the rest of his soliloquy faded to dust. 

A compassionate smile shone at him, and Coran spoke simply, “It will all be all right.” 

Guilt swarmed in him, and he wanted to be grateful for Coran’s encouraging words, but disbelief shrouded any ability to express Keith’s gratitude. He grimaced. 

“How do you know that?” The solid hand left him, just to come back down in a pat Keith assumed was supposed to be reassuring. 

“I just do,” Coran told him. Keith watched with expectant eyes, willing for more, then sighed. As Keith was about to thank Coran and move on, the man went on. “But Keith, a quick wee secret between the two of us…” he leaned in, and Keith was compelled to follow suit. He needed all the help he could get. “Giving out all your secrets only makes you weak it you allow it to. If you embrace those truths they will no longer be weaknesses—no one will be able to use them against you.” 

Keith was halted in thought, the sudden wisdom yet another unexpected surprise of the day. Coran stepped aside, patting Keith on the back as he passed. “Now, if I were you, I’d go talk to Lance.” The even echo of footsteps reverberated against the walls, growing faint until disappearing entirely. He was alone again, but this time the silence hadn’t just ejected him out the nearest airlock. Air entered and left his lungs with ease, and he stepped forward. 

He knew Coran was right, even before their conversation, but his feet wouldn’t give in. He continued to roam, Coran’s encouragement a soothing blanket that evened his breathing and calmed him. The castle’s lights illuminated his path, wherever it led, at least he would see his destination once he arrived. 

_I just need to… not let Lance hold it over me,_ he instructed. _Just move on from it, pretend it didn’t happen—like he pretends the bonding moment didn’t happen._ His intentions to ground himself shattered at the reminder. The cold borders were smashed down, frustration flooding in as he took his last step. 

He stopped in front of an empty room, and the need to train, to let off steam, pressed at him. 

Keith dropped his jacket off beside the open doorway, bringing out his bayard. He called for the Gladiator, the towering machine materializing in an instant. He barely activated his blade before it rushed at him, its glowing blue longsword slashing forward. Keith blocked, jumping back as it advanced. Its was on a decent difficulty setting, which served as and equally decent distraction. 

He jerked to the side, muddling through his dense thoughts. Keith shot in a breath, blocking another offensive move; he needed to concentrate. _Patience yields focus,_ he repeated like a mantra. 

Pushing his foot down for leverage, he twisted to the side, the Gladiator’s sword slicing the air with sleek grace. Keith took the opportunity, forcing his own weapon forward as its defense was down. The air around them began to weight down as he pressed further, and his lungs expanded with greater effort. His bayard mimicked the movement the Gladiator’s had, _just_ missing its stomach—but grazing its side. 

He smirked as he pulled back, ready to strike again when, “Of course this is where I find you.” 

Keith jolted in place, tripping up on his move back. His opponent noticed this, calculating within a split second and pulling its hand back, before thrashing it forward at Keith’s abdomen. Keith stumbled, falling back and letting out a gasp as his back hit the unforgiving floor. Several shocks of pain pressed into his spine, spreading like electricity. 

The luminescent, blue blade was at his throat, and Keith swallowed hard. His right hand grasped for his bayard, but it was gone. He must have dropped it on his way down. He opened his mouth to stop the simulation, but was once again beaten.

“End training sequence,” a familiar, amused voice called out. The Gladiator halted at command, proceeding to fall through an opening in the floor. Keith sucked in a breath.

Lazy pacing neared him from behind, intensifying so that Keith could both hear and feel it against the tiled ground. Then, at its loudest point, the steps stopped. Keith stared up, still regaining function in his lungs. A head appeared above him, blocking his view of the ceiling, and giving him a small grin. 

_Lance._

Keith hardened his shocked features into a plain expression, forcing a glare. “What do you want, Lance?” He didn’t await a reply, rather he pressed himself up off the floor and avoided Lance’s annoying look. 

Keith wanted to act calm, walking towards a nearby table, and pretend everything was the same. His head spun, and not from hitting the floor. He didn’t just want it, he _needed_ it; he wouldn’t be able to look Lance in those confident blue eyes of his. What once had been a blessing had morphed into a curse, much like his previous ability to stay quiet when needed. 

Lance’s voice rang out in the empty room, further away but surrounding him on all sides. “I wanted to play the game,” the mirth in his voice was tangible. 

Keith drew a towel off the table, throwing it across his neck and shoulders before grabbing a spare water bottle. He hoped Lance was referring to Saw; Keith would take that torture over this one any day. 

“What?” Keith asks, relishing in the privacy of his back to Lance. Despite convenience, Lance raises his voice instead of stepping closer. The lack of advancing footsteps gives a moment’s break. 

“I’m going to say a word, and you’re going to say the first word you think of in response,” he explained with high spirits. Keith frowned at the blank space in front of him. He wasn’t going to fall for this, whatever _this_ was. 

“Sounds like a stupid game.”

Lance didn’t budge. “Trust me,” he pressed, imploring. “It’s going to be really fun.” 

_I doubt it._ Keith turns on his heels, facing Lance with an eye roll. He raises a brow at the boy a few feet away, crossing his arms with his bottle in hand. 

“Well?” 

The question poked at him, and Keith sighed. “Will you leave me alone after I play along?” Lance nodded his head fervently, which only incited more flashes of worry inside Keith. Scowling, he returned a reluctant nod and waited for Lance to continue. 

“Okay,” Lance spoke smoothly, his excitement evening into something foreboding. “First word: green?” 

Keith’s mouth responds automatically, pushing together a response just for Lance’s ears. “Pidge.” With his response, Lance took a short stride forward. Keith gave him a questioning look, and Lance pointedly ignored it. He wasn’t grinning as he had been earlier either. There was now a glint in those blue eyes that triggered Keith’s flight instinct—but petrified him at the same time. 

“Kind?”

“Hunk,” he answered, and Lance nodded affirmatively, taking yet another step forward. 

“Dad?”

“Shiro.” Lance let out a laugh, and Keith soon found himself chuckling at his own definite response. Lance took a step forward, not leaving much space between them. Keith’s heart began to pound against his ribs, preparing to be unprepared.

“I gotta agree—only Shiro could pull off the space dad position,” replied Lance, a generous smile flashing across his face. “Cold?” 

“Snow.” 

Lance is exceptionally close—too close—now. Keith swallowed hard, his grip on the bottle tightening in sync with Lance’s step. This time, Lance took a step forward with his own question and not Keith’s response. They were face-to-face.

“Hot?”

Like before, the word tumbled from his mouth, as clumsy as it was horrifying. “You.” Keith’s inconsistent heartbeat skipped a beat, then two, then stopped altogether. A noiseless prayer left him, wishing the flush from training would cover the blood he knows is flooding his face. 

The captivating blue gaze widens. Though Lance wasn’t as surprised as he was with Keith’s first faux pas, it was just enough to send a bang of apprehensions through him. The edges of Lance’s mouth caught his attention as they curved up, forming an underhanded grin. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Lance muttered. “I like this game.”

Keith choked, “I hate this game.” He’s stumbling over himself, needing an excuse to run out the door before the situation could be sucked deeper into the void. “Well, I-I finished the game as I said I would—okay—bye bye now,” Keith’s voice rose with each word, reaching a yell as he neared the doorway. 

If only it could have ended there.

—

Lance spent the rest of the day tracking Keith down, planning out questions to ask and tease him with. At first, Keith had attempted to hide himself around the others, sticking close to Shiro or talking to Hunk and Pidge. It had only made it worse on Keith, and Lance was enjoying every second of it. 

Life had given him the biggest opportunity to one-up his rival since Keith was kicked out of the Garrison—and hell if he wasn’t going to use it. Not only could he figure out what Keith really thought about him, but the silent treatment from Keith was no longer a possibility. 

The sixth place he had found Keith was on the couch, having given up company and sitting alone. Lance embraced his inner ninja, sneaking up behind the mullet before hoping over to sit beside him. Keith didn’t even flinch. 

“Oh, _come_ on,” Lance groaned. “Not even mock surprise? Wow…”

Keith gave him a pained look. “Lance—“ he tried, but Lance cut him off. 

“Actually, just a quick question really,” drawled Lance, watching a habitual exasperation bubble up in Keith’s stormy, frustrated eyes. “As I’m sure you recall, you called me _hot_ earlier, and I’m getting really curious now… what exactly do you find hot about me? Besides everything, of course.” 

Keith sprung into conversation easily, which was still a feat to see, even if Lance had seen it more than a few times. “Well, I l-like your eyes, I mean, the color’s nice, but they always seem to be shining.” The boy ran a hand up through his bangs, avoiding all of Lance as he spoke. “But—uh, it could just be your confidence—which is, actually, really annoying most of the time—but… when you use it right, it’s—well—it’s hot.” Disbelief shoved itself into Lance’s brain, nudging between every crack and hidden corner it could find. _No way this truth serum worked, at least, not on Keith, right?_ Keith would never say these kinds of things.

The boy took in a deep breath, and spoke quietly. “Your hands…”

Lance frowned, “What?”

“You have—your hands… they’re really nice, uh, hands…”

He looked down at his own hands, the slight duality between the tan and lighter palm. Lance then looked to Keith’s, and he was acting on the thought before he actually thought it through. His fingers pressed up against Keith’s, nudging them up until they were palm to palm. Lance looked up.

Keith had finally locked his shocked expression onto Lance’s confused one. 

Despite the joking and prodding, a lurking sense of doubt whispered in his ear, refuting Keith’s claims. Regardless of the circumstances or how many times he heard it, his mind couldn’t wrap around the idea. 

“I still don’t understand all this… you can’t be seriou—“ Abrupt panting broke through their conversation, and the two saw Hunk enter the room. 

“Guys,” he rushed, not noticing their hands as his gaze flew between them. “Allura’s calling a meeting, we gotta go.” Keith shot up from his spot on the couch, swinging over the back and passing Hunk without a word. 

Lance looked to his friend, his frown deepening as he sprinted over. “What’s the problem? The Galra?” 

“No,” Hunk replied instantly, and the two headed off after Keith. “She’s picking someone to go on a solo mission, and the rest of us have to be on cleaning crew. You’re lucky I came to get you—Pidge wanted us to just leave you two. Gave her better chances of going herself.” 

“Typical Pidge,” he exhaled, though he didn’t blame her. 

The two entered the control deck, where Allura stood beside Keith and was in the middle of a conversation. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. “That fast?” Pidge and Shiro were a few feet off, the two laughing amongst themselves. Nearing the crew, Lance began to pick up on bits of pieces of conversation. 

“Allura, _please_ ,” he heard Keith plead, his back turned to Lance. “I know you want us to get along, and we will—I’ll talk to him, but… I need a break. He won’t listen to me and I can’t handle the mocking anymore, it’s been all day now, and I know he hates me but—“

 _I hate him?_ his mind echoed, more baffled than it had been all day. 

Allura looked up and met Lance’s eyes, and Keith seemed to recognize the motion, since he had stopped talking entirely. In fact, everyone seemed to quiet at the duo’s arrival. 

“Now that we’re all here,” Allura said, her tone carefully flat. “Coran is gathering supplies for those of you who are staying. Furthermore, I’ve decided that Keith is going to be the one to go and make allies with the I’vira.”

_He actually thinks I hate him?_

Keith wouldn’t look at him.

Lance backtracked, going through the entire day’s worth of events in a moment. It was like he had been struck by lighting in a pool; it all started when Keith came out of the pod, and answered Pidge’s question. Since then he had tailed Keith, the confused glee building up to form skyscrapers in his stomach. Every time Lance had asked a question, he gradually grew to grasp the possibility that Keith might actually care about him as much as he cared about the rest of the team. The thought made it difficult to hold back a smile. 

He hadn’t been thinking. 

It took him hours to realize he had been abusing the truth serum accident. He was pushing Keith’s hand in every which way possible to get him to answer Lance’s questions. Just because he wanted to know if Keith hated him or not. 

_And now Keith thinks I hate him instead._

Lance needed to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey loves, i’d like to thank you all again so much for reading. it’s insane to think people are actually reading this ~~because i have no idea what i’m doing~~ :) 
> 
> also, if you’d like to, please feel free to leave a comment below. it can vary from full-blown fangirling ~~because same~~ to ur thoughts on this chapter. i love talking to u guys ^ ^


	3. pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _finally,_ im getting out this chapter. i apologize for my inconsistency; i’m working on three fics rn (all klance. yes, ik i have a problem. sue me), and haven’t worked out an efficient schedule yet. i also may or may not have taken a ~~way too long~~ hiatus due to mental health and stress, so thank you all for sticking with me thus far, you’re amazing :)

Lance didn’t waste any time. 

Panic rose from his gut upwards, fogging his mind and shoving away any logic. He stepped forward, moving to Keith and Allura. “Wait, Allura—“ he began, but was rapidly cut off by the woman in question. 

“No, Lance,” she shot back, determined. “I am already decided. Keith is going.” 

He stopped in place, frowning. “That’s not what I was going to say.” Lance opened his mouth to go on, to explain, to give himself a chance to apologize, but was once again thwarted. 

Shiro stepped in between Lance and his destination, his arms crossed over his buff chest. His glare was disappointed and stern. The look made Lance shift, feeling unnerved and uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare budge. 

“I’m not trying to—“

Their team leader didn’t allow him the chance to finish. “I know, Lance,” he sighed. “Just… can you please come talk to me for a second?” Shiro moved aside, giving Lance an opening, then grabbed him by the arm, dragging the boy away and out of the room. An exasperated groan rose in Lance’s throat, and he didn’t bother holding it back. 

“Can people _stop_ interrupting me?” 

Shiro released his arm, positioning himself between Lance and the doorway. “Lance…” he spoke the blue paladin’s name like a warning. “We have all seen how you’ve been acting, especially around Keith, and Allura and I have agreed that you’ve taken it too far.” Lance grimaced, his shoulders rising as he folded into himself. 

“Well I was _trying_ to apologize,” he pouted back. “Not like I had the chance…” Shiro gave him a scrutinizing glare, and though Lance couldn’t stop himself from shriveling back, he wasn’t going to back away. He wasn’t lying, Shiro had to know that. 

At long last, the tension snapped with a sigh. Shiro ran metal fingers through the white tuft on his head, his gaze softening. 

“Lance,” he started, Lance’s name now discouraging. “I know you and Keith tend to not get along… but I’ve known him for a while, and it isn’t easy for him to express himself like you do. He didn’t grow up surrounded by people—he’s not used to being so close to others, it makes him feel vulnerable. The truth serum just makes that more difficult for him, so don’t be too hard on him, okay?” 

The corners of Lance’s lips tilted up to form an excited smile. “Yes, okay. And… does that mean… you’re giving me permission to go with Keith so I can apologize?”

“No, Lance. As important as this is, you’re not getting out of cleaning with the rest of us,” Shiro scolded. “You can apologize once Keith comes back.” 

Lance groaned.

—

Keith wasn’t taking Red.

At first he had thought Allura was joking, but she had never been one to mess around—especially on the topic of essential uniting treaties and foreign planets. The I’vira were a peaceful colony, comprised of tall and slender humanoids who monopolized on their advanced technology and wisdom. Despite this, they needed protection. Protection Voltron could provide. 

Their only downfall, it seemed, was their arrogance. 

They were a beautiful people, Allura explained. They tended to have many talents, and were consequently very prideful about it, as well as competed over who was more skilled.

“So,” Keith began, absolutely terrified. “You’re telling me I’m going to a planet filled with Lance’s?” Allura chuckled at his horror. 

“You signed up for it,” she told him with a smile, stopping in the castle’s hangar. “Now, you’ll be taking a pod they sent up. It’ll bring you back as well, so no need to worry about—“

“Why can’t I take Red?” 

Her smile turned sympathetic. “They are not familiar with us yet, and have no reason to trust strangers. We must prove ourselves. That is why I have chosen to send an envoy. Too many newcomers might intimidate them, and I do not want to scare them away from forming a treaty with us.” 

“But Red is part of Voltron, don’t they want to know who they’re dealing with? That Red is going to protect them?” 

“Keith… for all they know we are planning an attack, and sending you as a spy,” she replied. Keith opened his mouth to argue, only to shut it again. Satisfied with his silence, Allura went on. “Now, the controls on this device are simplified and automated. You won’t have to do any piloting, just wait for the pod to land.” 

Keith nodded along, listening adamantly as he pushed down his indignant remarks. He kept his eyes down, staring blankly at the helmet in his gloves hands. Only once she had finished, motioning to the open pod, did he voice his thoughts. 

“What if something goes wrong?” 

Allura put her hands on his helmet, drawing in his attention. “Then you use the comms in your helmet. I’ll have Pidge monitoring everything, so you just concentrate on gaining the I’vira’s trust.” She gave Keith a firm smile as she stepped away, to which he returned with a tentative one. He had nearly forgotten why he had cadged to go in the first place. 

Keith stepped into the pod, turning back to face her before shutting the door. “Thank you, Allura,” he told her guilelessly. “I really am sorry for the trouble, I—“

The princess shook her head, smiling between waving locks of silver. “No need. I should apologize for the truth serum to begin with. I simply hope you and Lance can finally get along with your return.” Keith grimaced.

“Me too.”

—

Lance was tasked with the more monotonous of cleaning the lions’ exteriors. His veins flooded with relief when Coran hadn’t picked him to help clean the pods, instead choosing Pidge to take his place. Hunk went to clean and repair the kitchen after yet another goo machine malfunction, and Shiro (unsurprisingly) went to go over battle plans with Allura. Lance had almost gotten away with some free time, but after hearing his space parents were getting some time alone, he couldn’t hold back a snicker. 

He had made a grave mistake.

 _Yet again,_ his mind taunted. 

Lance had gone to Blue straight away, grateful to spend some time with his girl at least. Her presence pushed at the edges of his mind with a ready excitement. His muscles tensed as he passed Red, an uncomfortable tingle running down his spine as he avoided her gaze. She probably already knew about Lance’s jackassery, judging him in cool silence. 

Reaching Blue, Lance was intent to return her insistent attention, pressing his palms to her paw and greeting her with a whisper. The metal felt cold in his hands, sending yet another cold shiver down his back. Blue danced around his thoughts, only slowing to show concern. A frown forced down the lifting edges of his mouth, and he retreated. A sudden sense of foreboding rushed over him, hitting him in the face and giving him goosebumps. 

He heard Red roar. 

It was a low, harsh sound that reverberated through the room and shook him to the bones. Lance turned on the balls of his heels, finally facing her in a flash of irritation. At the back of his mind, he could feel Blue attempting to soothe him, humming and purring against him. He shook her away. He didn’t need to be babied. 

Across from his lion sat Red, imposing and unresponsive to Lance’s glare. He moved onward, rising contrary grumbles from Blue and the other lions with each, definite step. Though he couldn’t hear Red like he could hear his own lion, he knew she wasn’t pleased.

“I _wanted_ to apologize!” he yelled, throwing his hands up. Bitter eyes watched him in return, unresponsive to his shouts. Lance scoffed; no wonder Keith was paired with Red, their silence was made to fill the other’s. 

“Whatever,” Lance muttered. “Not like you care… you’re like Keith in that respect too, huh?” Red groused at the comment, but did nothing to deny the fact. “Thought so.” 

Blue’s aura returned, sensing his being upset, and prodded comforting thoughts at him. This time, Lance didn't shrink away from her touch. He sighed and turned away from Keith’s lion. Trying to reason with her was about as effective as arguing with a brick wall. 

“Whatever,” he repeated, quieter this time. 

Lance turned away, doubling back to his lion. The tense atmosphere remained, sitting atop his shoulders and straining his back. He didn’t know why he felt so off, or why the room was beginning to haze, or why it was getting harder to breathe with each inhale. Ribs constricted against his lungs in every step; it was impossible to move any further. 

“What the—“ Lance gasped out, rolling his head to gape over his shoulder at Red. “ _Fuck._ ” Her eyes remained dark and unresponsive, sending yet another painful spark of a reminder down through him. “You?” he forced out in question. 

Red remained silent.

His mind grasped for straws, no logical explanation for what was happening coming to mind. For a brief moment he had wished Pidge or Allura was here, both of which had different areas of intellect that could interpret the choking pressure he was feeling. 

Lance wrapped his arms around himself, hoping to deceive his mind into thinking the force was from his own doing. Sadly, the compressing came from all sides. _If only Hunk was around to give me one of his hugs…_

Hunk would be the best choice for a hug like the one he needed right now—though he would honestly appreciate any hug at this point. His trembling hands yearned for something solid to hang on to. One of Shiro’s hugs could ground him for sure, as would Pidge’s small hesitant embraces if she ever gave in to giving him one. Even one from Allura or Coran, though he wasn’t even sure if Alteans hugged like humans did. 

_They probably do._

His mind played with the idea of getting a hug from Keith, a timid thought that Lance was quick to scoff aloud at. The only person Keith would hug willingly was Shiro, and Lance was far from resembling anything like the hunk of muscle and leadership Shiro exuded. Despite now knowing Keith found him ‘hot’ and taking as many opportunities Lance could teasing him for it, it would never go further than that. Lance knew that. He was fine with just the bragging rights that Keith, the Garrison golden boy and ‘best pilot,’ found someone like Lance not just datable, but attractive. 

The strain on his chest constricted painfully, and Lance let out a strangled sound. His gaze found Red’s again, Blue’s growling audible somewhere behind him. The other lions seemed to chime in angrily—Lance didn’t know he could hear any of the other lions other than Blue. What else didn’t he know about the lions?

His heart skipped a beat as the pressure shoved him onto his knees, and he yelped. 

The force seemed familiar somehow; when Blue pressed against his mind, entering his thoughts, it was a similar feeling—without the restrictive pain. It moved inimical to him, but for some reason, Lance felt the motive wasn’t meant to harm. He was missing something. 

“St-stop!” he shouted, his voice crumbling under the invisible brick wall on his back. “I—I can’t breathe…!”

A single thought flared through him, flowing through the imperceptible cracks in the wall on his back and up his spine into his mind. His body shook violently as the force disappeared as the word reached him, and Lance fell to the ground in a heap. His lungs heaved as his throat screamed for air. He barely noticed the howls of the lions grow louder before dispersing entirely. 

_Keith._

The rest of him recovering, Lance remained on his back, jutting his shoulders into the ground and tilting his chin up just enough to spot an upside-down Red. Breathing hard, he gave Keith’s lion a befuddled glare. 

“What?” his gaze turned sour. “Why would you…?” 

It clicked. 

Lance sucked in a sharp breath of fresh air, scrambling to his feet, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Horror flooded Lance’s veins in his stupor, and he stared in shock. If his gut was right and not consumed by his jumping to conclusions, he needed to _go._

“Wait, so—Keith—I…” he faltered. “I need to get the others. They can help.” 

As his foot made a forty-five degree turn, just touching the floor, the force deluged back. He stopped in his tracks, panicking. 

“O-okay! Never mind!” The crushing came to a screeching halt and Lance’s head lolled back as his body slowly recaptured his nerves and let him breathe. “Jeez…” he exhaled. His legs felt like wobbling jelly, barely managing to keep him upright. 

Was it too difficult to just tell him what he needed to know? Why did she have to make everything so painful? 

Lance gave Red one last parting look, raising his hands in slow surrender. “Okay, I’m going… right? That’s what you wanted?” 

Unsurprisingly, she lacked a response. 

“I’m taking your silence as a yes, then,” he told her, faltering a moment before turning away. If he had interpreted Red right, she had chosen him to go after Keith—alone.

_Why?_

The lions made no further noise as Lance traipsed to his lion, even Blue was unusually quiet. Nearing her, Lance reached out his hands to rub them soothingly against Blue’s cool, metal paws. He worried when she didn’t respond at first, then a warm and thoughtful nudge dispersed his fears. Well, most of them. 

_Keith,_ his mind echoed.

“Come on, then. Let’s—”

“Hey, Lance!” 

He started, flipping around to stare with big eyes. At the entrance of the hangar stood Pidge, a few feet away, her lips curled into a fiendish grin. Her glasses glinted as she pushed them up her nose with her middle finger. 

Lance calmed himself, not wanting to look suspicious. “H-hey,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets as he cringed. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the pods?”

“Well,” she began, stepping forward. “Shiro actually gave me something else to do, but I think you’d find it more useful, since…” Pidge nudged her head in the direction of Blue, her smirk growing as Lance seemed to become smaller. 

“I’m not going because I _want_ to,” he whined. “Keith is getting his impulsive self into trouble again, and Red will literally crush me if I don’t go.” Pidge gave him a look, but didn’t question it, and Lance couldn’t be more grateful. 

“I trust you.” 

Lance took a double take; he couldn’t have heard right. Her gaze remained steady and calm, the token devious glint gone just for this moment. His heart warmed and he smiled, but he wasn’t going to let her get away without _some_ teasing. 

“Aww, Pidge, you do—“ 

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, unable to hide a genuine smile. “And take this.” Pidge extended her closed palm.

—

The I’vira were unexpectedly relaxed and welcoming for a people who didn’t trust Keith, and it threw him off more than any prodigious suspicion could. Their kindness was uncanny.

_Maybe it’s some kind of test?_

So far, the sole thing he had expected had been what Allura told him. Meaning he knew absolutely nothing useful. Keith knew if there was a truly vital piece of information he was missing, Allura would have told him. She wouldn’t leave him a sitting duck in the dark. 

Two I’vira, both about his size, if not taller, led him to the main hall once his pod landed on the rim of their city. At first, Keith had assumed he would be greeted by the planet’s leaders, subsequently realizing the two before him were servants of the I’viran king. They introduced themselves as such, without revealing their names, and began to walk towards the city’s outer gates. At noticing his surprise, they explained those of lower class were ranked by height, unless you were part of the royal family.

“The last section was affixed succeeding our princess’s birth,” the shorter of the two justified, his accent patchy and slightly garbled. Keith’s ears strained to grasp each word. 

“Because she’s the shortest I’vira to ever live,” japed the other, earning an offended gasp and a smack from the first. He hissed at his companion, switching to speak his native tongue to presumably curse out. 

Keith made observations as he glanced around at the cracking, grey soil and sparse plant life around him. This planet was dying, whether it be from war or another deteriorating cause. Either these people were desperate for an alliance but paranoid of deceit, or seeking another alternative planet to capture. The trio passed a crashed, decrepit shuttle lying feet away from the entrance. 

_The castle would be a perfect alternative,_ his mind warned. 

Along the tops of the city’s walls were lookouts, with one to two I’vira stationed to guard. They were relatively spread out, but ensured coverage on all sides. At their advancement, one solider stepped forward, to the edge of the towering shimmer of a wall, and looked down at them. The two beside Keith halted, giving a strange salute and hand gesture so fast and convoluted Keith’s eyes could only catch bits and pieces. The guard signaled back without a moment’s hesitation, and suddenly the gates were opening. They didn’t open how Keith expected, like double doors moving inward before breaking away, but rather slid into the floor below. The motion didn’t surprise him as much as what it revealed, however. 

As the gate fell away, neon whites, greens, purples, along with splotches of other bright colors flooded his vision. Plants so colorful they seemed fake spread across the opening of the city, a rainbow assortment of flora that reached to grow over everything but the walls’ interior. The contrast between the dying life and silvery skin of the I’vira against their city’s color numbed the senses. 

His guides stepped over the large indent where the wall fell in, passing the threshold and into I’vira. Keith followed after taking a moment, his eyes still adjusting to the abrupt change in setting that could have sent any human over the edge and into an epileptic shock. The dance of hues continued to glisten and twinkle as he moved along a purely white tiled path, trailing up to a tower that could rival that of Earth’s Burj Khalifa. Its height was insane—and yet he could have sworn he hadn’t seen it from the outside. 

Within a minute’s walk past staring, imposing citizens and a short ride in an elevator thats ceiling was commensurate with three of him stacked upon each other, Keith met both his destination and the I’viran ruler. His guides didn’t leave the elevator, rather urging him on with silent waved goodbyes.

The room he entered had walls of glass, and though he couldn’t say they were on the top floor, the sight from the window panes told him they were up high. In the center of the room lay an elongated banquet table, stretching feet across. Everything, even the silverware and food portions lining the tablecloth seemed unnaturally huge compared to Keith. He was a failed attempt to make a doll I’viran size, and shrunk even further as someone stood from the head of the table. 

“Ah, Red Knight, welcome to I’vira!” the figure greeted, voice jovial yet sonorous. Keith could only concentrate on how tall he was—a little over double Keith’s height. “I am the Lord of this planet, Ivor.” With a long arm, he swept across the room, motioning to the others sitting around the table. “These are my most trusted executives and friends, as well as my daughter, Iliana.” 

His hand stopped, directing itself at a petite girl across from him. She sat next to the other head of the table—an empty seat. “Please, sit.” The meal was sure to be a peace offering, and Keith needed to make a good first impression, so he obliged. Embarrassment stung as Keith had to subtly pull himself up onto the end chair, his feet nowhere near the floor. He was reminded of Pidge, and wondered in mild amusement if this is how she felt all the time. 

Ivor sat as Keith situated himself, and the table broke out into hushed chat and eating. They all awaited the real conversation to start, howbeit also intent on making Keith comfortable. Even Ivor humored the situation, turning to speak to someone by his side. The only one who didn’t speak was the girl to Keith’s right. She was preoccupied with staring. Keith tried not to return the favor. 

“You are actually _shorter_ than me.” Iliana spoke even quieter than the others, her eyes wide and unblinking with awe. He forcibly swallowed a sigh. It was a phrase he expected from Lance, not a stranger. 

“Yes,” Keith replied brusquely. “I am.” 

The girl pouted at that, tilting her head to the side in a way he guessed was supposed to be endearing. “I did not mean to insult you, I am just really happy I am no longer the only one,” she explained in soft whispers. 

Keith really did sigh this time. “It’s fine, but, for the record, I’m human—well,” he hesitated, frowning. “Part human. And my height is actually about average. Maybe above average.” He felt so defensive and tense—it was something about the hospitable atmosphere that pushed his gut the wrong way. 

Iliana didn’t seem to notice how wound up he was. “Human…” she muttered under her breath, still watching him. He gave her a sideways glance, _why does that surprise her?_

Ivor cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Iliana, try not to disturb our guest, yes?” The man was smiling, his teeth bright and sharp, but there was a warning behind the look that made Keith shiver in his armor. Her eyes snapped to her father, the bun of bright, erratic hair atop her head coming undone at the sharp gesture. 

“I was not,” she told him coldly. “I—“

“I allowed you to join us for dinner on the condition that you proved not to be a burden to anyone here,” Ivor spoke, detached and impassive even as his daughter flinched. “I see now that I was wrong.” 

Keith found himself gaping, affronted, hot rage building in his stomach. His gloved hands curled into fists in his lap, and he tried to remember Shiro’s words. The pressure sunk down on him, and his anger built up more to push against it. He couldn’t help it. 

Before he could stop himself, his hand came up to tear off his helmet. “How is she a burden?” he burst out, not regretting his decision even as all attention revolved to him. “If anything she’s the only one here that’s been acting normally—the forced kindness is worse than just being honest about your suspicions! I know I’m a stranger to you guys, but you’re strangers to me too, and none of this is helping!” He gestured wildly, glaring a little harsher than was probably deemed necessary. 

No one spoke, matching pairs of translucent blue eyes goggling him. His chest heaved, realization slowly flooding in. He was supposed to be creating an _alliance_ between these people and Voltron, not starting a war. Keith was a definite no when it came to diplomacy, and yet Allura had allowed him to go. He screwed up an important union because of his desperation to get away from Lance—to run from the people he cared about because of a lapses linguae. 

Keith opened his mouth to speak again, hopefully attempt an apology, but was beaten to the punch by Iliana. “It is all right,” she exhaled, throwing Keith a rueful smile. “Thank you, really, but I must excuse myself.” 

She gave Ivor one last look before she stood, pushing back her chair. “My father is right. A burden should not be allowed at the table.” Iliana rushed to the elevator, her head bowed down as the doors opened immediately, letting her in. 

Time passed in long, long segments. For a while, no one spoke nor moved. 

Then the king cleared his throat. “Red Knight… you came here for an alliance, correct?” he asked, knowing the answer but needing a subject change. 

Keith already screwed up the dinner, so he might as well do what he came here for in the first place. Despite the nagging need to apologize to Iliana, his curse forced him to reply. “Yes. We know you have ways to contact the Galra,” he started, reciting Allura’s information with ease. “But they’re not trustworthy. They’ll betray you over a slight inconvenience.” 

Ivor nodded. “We recently became aware of how… detrimental they could be to our civilization,” he paused. “You said you could protect us if we chose to trust you. How do you intend to do so?” 

“Voltron,” Keith answered. “It’s the universe’s strongest weapon.” 

“And why should we trust you?” 

Frustration kicked in, and he replied with a kick to his words. “I need a reason to want to protect the universe—our only home?” he huffed. “You have the audacity to ask while you can’t even protect your daughter from yourself.” The truth left his lips, guests gasped, and his eyes widened in sync with Ivor’s. The only difference between the two was the king narrowed his gaze right after. 

_Oh_ god, _why did I do that?_

Any chance he had at burying the hatchet and making his team proud evaporated then. He swallowed the lump in his throat, praying that Pidge really was listening, in case he couldn’t make it back on his own. 

“You. Follow me.” If Ivor’s voice had been emotionless before, Keith couldn’t tell. In comparison to the voice he spoke in now, Keith would have considered his previous tone a welcomed grace. “Are you coming?” He looked over to realize Ivor had left the table in favor of the elevator. 

His blood ran cold. 

He didn’t have much of a choice. For a moment Keith thought his legs froze at the lack of heat, but somehow found himself trudging over. The dinner guests acted as if they had been turned to stone, no one daring to move as Keith did. 

_At least I have my bayard…_ he tried an optimistic tone. He received about as much comfort in the action as he did not deleting his internet history. 

The elevator played no music. 

Keith hadn’t noticed the first time; the guides had distracted him with the quiet hum of idle conversation. Now he was being choked by silence, desperate for the relief of cliché elevator melodies. The machine didn’t let out a hum or slight creak, as if it could sense the tension and turned a blind eye. Not even the inanimate wanted to become involved in this train wreck of a situation. 

It only continued to move up. 

“My daughter is an erratic one, Red Knight,” Ivor told him with a sigh. “I do not intend to hurt her, you must understand… but, my subjects. They joke about her height, and Iliana is young, so young—I don’t want her to grow bitter and despise her people. The day will come when she rules them, and if I don’t teach her to take words with a grain of salt, she will break under her own reign.” Keith frowned. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

The king turned his head, their gazes connecting. His lips parted to reveal his sharp teeth, about to express Ivor’s thoughts, when a ding sounded. That noise wasn’t what stopped the king from speaking, but rather the high-pitched screech that followed. 

Keith’s gaze shifted and locked on the scream’s origin. 

Iliana stood hunched over in a room filled with deep, varying purples and familiar glass walls. The princess surrounded by two I’vira. His mind jolted, recognizing the two as his earlier escorts. The taller one’s hands held a handful of her now flowing hair, the remaining aggressor dual wielding heavily marked blades. 

Keith spared Ivor a split-second look. The I’viran didn’t look surprised, he was downright terrified. Keith’s bayard activated at the sight, the two attackers still in the dark about Keith’s appearance. Only now did his ears pick up fragments of their discussion, albeit they were speaking their native tongue, so he gleaned nothing from eavesdropping. 

Their backs were turned to him, so he didn’t expect to be anticipated. When he neared, and the armed one flipped around, Keith’s reflexes barely brought up his sword to block the sudden attack. He absentmindedly wondered if I’virans had enhanced hearing when put against humans. Keith didn’t have time to think past his initial impression, since blades retracted to strike again. 

Keith kicked out, swiftly bringing his attacker’s legs out from under him and his blades clattering to the floor. Without hesitation he brought his boot down into the I’viran’s abdomen, and the being let out a gut-wrenching shriek. He crumpled inward, and Keith couldn’t hold back his intrigue. 

_That was easy. Do all I’virans have weak spots in their stomachs?_ The spare fighter squawked as Keith faced him. He decided to test a theory. 

“Stand back, human!” the I’viran yelled, tightening his grip and bringing Iliana closer with a rough tug. “I’ll—“

“Sorry in advance, princess,” Keith supplied her an apologetic look, then struck out once more. His bayard flew past her face, cutting through her long hair and impaling his opponent’s hand. He fell away without a sound, semiopaque eyes widening and he forcibly released Iliana. That was all Keith needed to see to advance. 

He rotated and shot his leg out, his boot connecting with the assaulter’s middle. Another, equally paining screech broke out and he stumbled back. He moved with such force that when his back hit the glass, it didn’t support his weight, fracturing away and sending the excess assassin free-falling. There was no scream on his way down. 

Keith turned back to the royal family, walking over to press the button calling for the elevator. When he turned again, Ivor had appeared by his daughter’s side, and both of them wore dumbfounded expressions. The reaction after recovery was instant. 

“Holy—he—you saved my life!” Iliana shouted, her hand floating up to her fresh bob cut. She smiled hugely, rushing forward as Keith retracted his bayard. 

It had been in good timing; when Keith had sheathed his weapon, she had wrapped her arms around him. It felt as if worms had burrowed their way inside him, making him want to squirm in the uncomfortable pain urging him away from her touch. He was relieved when she stepped away eons later, freeing him from her clutches. Iliana looked to the king, and Keith followed suit. 

Ivor had regained his cool demeanor by then, his gaze going back and forth between them, before finally landing on Keith. “Brave Red Knight,” he stepped forward, slight surprise still tainting his voice. “You saved my daughter’s life, even when I doubted your trust. You have truly proved to me you mean good. We will gladly accept Voltron’s peac—“

“Wait, father!” Iliana begged, stricken with panic. Once Ivor paused, she went on. “You can’t make an alliance with them unless I can have him.” The princess pointed a honed finger at Keith, who froze. 

“Wh-what?” he fought out. 

The girl had the balls to look at him and grin. “I need safety—a guard—don’t I? Father?” she softened her expression, batting her eyelashes at Ivor. Confusion had stolen away Keith’s voice, rendering him useless and distraught. “Plus he _did_ just save me when no one else could. Not even you!” 

Her last sentence had its desired effect, and the king flinched, albeit marginally. When a chilling wind blew over Keith, he knew it wasn’t from the bashed window a few feet away. Ivor nodded slowly, at first, then sighed and gave a definite nod. 

“Okay, Red Knight. We will make the alliance—“ Keith sucked in a shaky breath, “—only if you marry my daughter, and swear to spend your life by her side, protecting her like you did tonight.” He wore a thoughtful expression and a smile that one would wear when giving a gift. He was oblivious to the terror in Keith’s eyes.

Time froze along with Keith, his heart not bothering to continue beating. It all had gone so wrong so fast he hadn’t gotten the chance to adapt to the problem before it evolved into something significantly worse. He had saved a life and lost his own all within a second. It left the world to spin circles around him as he struggled to find purchase. 

_Oh, Pidge, please tell me help’s on the way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may be just slightly overly excited about what i have planned for the next chapter >:’)   
> and feel free to talk to me in the comments, you guys genuinely make my day <3


	4. own it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so ready to write this chapter you don’t even _know._

Everything pressed together in a jumble of incoherency. Keith couldn’t move or speak against it, unable to fight the undertow that swept him under. He was going to have to respond eventually, his mind knew, but not now. Not when new waves crashed against him every time his lungs struggled for air. 

_Why me?_

His mind registered noises with little notice; the rushing bursts of wind, the elevator’s ding, and even the king’s words were muffled behind Keith’s wall of panic. He vaguely realized Ivor’s lips moving, his eyes jerking at the motion. From the look on his face, Keith had just been asked a question. 

“Huh?” he let out, a little too loudly. 

Though Iliana’s attention drifted off of Keith as Ivor repeated himself, the king kept his steel gaze on the boy. “Do you accept our gracious offer?” he asked expectantly, irritation slipping around his question like a pestering snake. Keith’s mouth opened, terror striking at all the possible disasters the serum entailed. 

Yet the question wasn’t answered. 

His mind had gone tastefully blank. 

Sudden warmth pressed into his side and gently curved around his waist, tugging him into a body. Keith’s head whipped around, his outer arm jerking towards his bayard, but halting at the sight of the newcomer. He jaw went slack. 

“L-Lance, what…” 

Lance wasn’t paying attention to his teammate. He didn’t even look at Keith when he stammered out his incredulity. Intense dark blues peered into pale ones, and Lance smiled so brightly Keith knew he had passed out from shock. 

_This isn’t happening._

“Ah, actually, Your Highness, I regret to inform you that your red knight is already taken,” the blue replied, sounding apologetic. Iliana stared, eyes going wider than Keith thought possible. He would have laughed at the sight if it weren’t for the situation at hand. 

“Oh?” The king looked downright confused, his vibrant brows furrowing. “By who?”

Lance smiled, so widely his eyes crinkled shut. It was a look of such cloying kindness Keith’s stomach swam with nausea; he felt sick. The tawny teen dipped into an enthusiastic bow, his arm remaining locked around Keith’s waist throughout the action. “Ah,” he tilted his head up, looking to Ivor as he bowed. “That would be me, Your Highness.” 

In any other situation, Keith would be stunned. He would stare and frown, giving Lance an all-around disapproving look, knowing he was only doing it to get the two of them out of this inadmissible predicament. 

However, this wasn’t _any other situation._

His thoughts collided against one another, pushing and pulling together to form a coagulation of paralyzed screams and clouded whispers of disbelief. The sole thought that stood by itself in all its eviscerating glory was a brick thrown at his memory. It shattered. 

_Lance can’t lie._

The other boy didn’t seem to notice Keith crumple. Instead, his back straightened, a softer smile gracing his relaxed features. “You see,” he went on like his words didn’t shake the very ground Keith stood on. “Us humans pick one person we want to be with for our entire lives, and though some go against it or lose that person, we haven’t. And I apologize to need to inform you, but I have chosen Keith.” 

There was no longer a possibility Keith was conscious. He had lost himself a few minutes back, when Iliana had demanded his hand in matrimony, and was imagining all of this. Yet Lance was all he could see; he couldn’t look to the others in the room. 

“However,” he carried on. “We can still offer our protection, just in other forms. Our Red Knight, Keith,” Lance nodded to his side, where the boy was still pressed up against him. “Is crucial to forming our strongest weapon against the Galra. Without him, no one is safe. Including you and your people.” 

The princess spoke up, but Keith couldn’t break his gaze from Lance’s profile. “H-how do we know you are telling the truth?” Though he wasn’t looking, he knew Iliana was glaring. “For all we know you could be pretending just so you can steal my Red Knight away from me!” 

Lance wasn’t fazed. Still smiling, he shook his head. “I am unable to lie, princess, and neither can he,” he told her with ease. “It’s our curse—but you’re free to test us any way you like.” 

After that, everything seemed to blur together, questions passing between the three of them that went unheard by Keith. He vaguely recalled being asked questions himself, but his responses were automatic, his body an unresponsive robot—excluding his mind. Keith remained so for a while, a silent, internal screaming mess. 

_He was telling the truth? How?_ the question repeated itself. _How? How? How?_

“Well,” Ivor’s voice suddenly broke through the haze, throwing Keith into the conversation. “I will contact your princess. Consider the pact made.” Keith perked up, glancing over to see the king smiling. With another beat, he noticed the princess was gone. 

_When…?_

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Lance said. “Regrettably, it is time we returned to our own people.” The warmth around pushed Keith, nearly causing him to stumble as he was turned around. Lance had tugged him into the elevator. 

Only once Ivor had left his peripherals did Keith speak up. He no longer looked at Lance. “What… the fuck… was _that?_ ” he was able to force out, each word slow and unintentionally emphasized by his dazed state. 

Lance glanced over, his features plain and smoothed over. “Not entirely sure, but, if I had to take a _wild_ guess, it was me saving your dumb ass.” The fog cleared as a flare of fire swarmed Keith, and he clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. 

“How do you play this off like it was nothing?” he snapped. 

Lance turned away, but not fast enough to hide a grin. “What?” he taunted. “You want me to brag about my heroics? I can if you’d like, princess.” 

Keith feels the heat flush his face, and doesn’t hesitate to blame it on his outrage. “No, and,” his chest contracts mid-sentence. “D-don’t call me that.” He could hear Lance’s pride as he turned to face Keith once more.

“Why, yo—“ Lance froze, but Keith still didn’t look over. He wished he could see how many floors they had to go, staring at the wall before him in desperation. “Oh—oh my god.” Keith let out an irate sigh, finally turning to meet Lance’s gaze. 

“What?” he growled back. 

Lance’s voice rose in excitement, the look of sheer amusement bubbling up in his wide, blue eyes. When he replied, he spoke at a near yell. “You _like_ pet names?” Keith felt himself go cold, only for his internal thermostat to bump up the temperature to match that of I’vira’s seven suns. 

“Wh—n-n—I’m—“ each time he tried to start a new sentence, a new lie, his body seemed to malfunction, forcing him to a halt. “ _Yes,_ ” he muttered. 

“ _Awww!_ ” Lance exclaimed, his amused smile curling his lips into a smirk. “Babe, that’s so cute.” Keith really flushes now, not able to deny himself the real reason any longer. 

“Oh my god!” he shouts back as Lance erupts into a series of unrestrained giggles. “I-I really—“ _hate you._ Nevertheless, Keith was cut off once more. He couldn’t say it, because truth was he didn’t hate Lance. “You’re an ass!” he decided. 

Now that was true. 

Keith needed to change the subject. His face couldn’t take the heat anymore, he was worried he was going to burst. Lance continued chuckling beside him. 

“How did you do that?” 

The snickers simmered down. “Do what?” he asked, the remains of Lance’s gratification shining through his grin.

“Find me?” 

“Oh, _that,_ ” Lance hummed in recognition. “Pidge gave me the monitoring thingamajig. I could hear your conversations, and there was a tracking device implemented. Courtesy of Pidge,” he explained. “She’s the one to thank.” At that, most of Keith’s questions had been answered. 

_But not all._

“How did you say that stuff back there when we can’t lie?” Lance’s gaze narrowed at that, a flash of an undeniable but indecipherable look moving across the deep blues of his eyes. 

“Hmm?” Lance murmured. “Which stuff?” 

Keith tensed, realizing he had to repeat what Lance had said, but unable to go back. “You said I was… _taken_ by you.” His mouth spoke for him.

Lance shrugged. “You were taken,” he muttered. “Taken aback. It wasn’t a lie.” Keith found himself staring again, and the other boy no returned his look. 

“What about choosing me?”

“Oh, that,” he replied. He sounded about as uninterested as he was when Allura introduced them to the machine that could teach the paladins Altean. “I didn’t specify what I chose you for. They just took it that way.” 

It clicked. “Oh…” _He meant as rivals._

The elevator came to a stop in sync with Keith’s realization, and when the two stepped outside, they were bombarded with stares from the I’vira. Many had gathered around Blue, who stood just feet away from the skyscraper’s entrance. Imagining Lance fly in Blue, bypassing the I’vira’s defense and landing in the city center, tempted a laugh from Keith. He held back. 

Lance didn’t mind the looks, growing uncharacteristically quiet as he past the strangers and entered Blue’s gaping maw. He had expected waves and loud greetings from the boy, receiving nothing like the sort. Keith hurried to follow. 

Passing noises and external sound became suppressed inside Blue. A strange sense of uncertainty rushed over Keith as he stepped through, entering Lance’s world. He wasn’t used to empty silences unfilled by the boy in question. Something needed to be said, but Keith couldn’t tell what. He just wanted the uneasy stillness to pass. 

“Lance, I—“ he began.

“Wait,” Lance interrupted. His back faced Keith. “Actually, Keith… there is a reason I came to get you. You know, besides bragging rights.” A small ting of astonishment whipped through him, followed by terrified string of questions. 

_What does he know? Does he know what I think about him? Did he figure out or did someone tell him? Is he finally going to get it over with and reject me?_

Lance turned around, his posture reeking solemnity—just another thing to throw Keith further off guard. “I came to apologize.” Keith didn’t think there was a moment since he got to I’vira where he wasn’t staring at Lance. 

“What?” he manages out. 

“I…” Lance frowns. “For being an ass earlier. And for asking all those questions that clearly made you uncomfortable.” Keith frowned in return. 

_Of course he’s this dense._

Taking Keith’s puckered brow without a grain of salt and more with bucketful, Lance charged on. “I just—out of everyone on our team, I was sure you hated me the most. And I—the compliments… I mean, I know they’re not compliments because I forced them out of you, but knowing you actually think I have one or two good features… and that I’m not completely useless, it’s.” He seemed to choke midway through his rambling. “It’s nice.” 

Keith didn’t know what to say. 

This time, Lance’s pause wasn’t disjointed. It was a definite, purposeful one. Only now did Keith really take a look at him; he was a tad slouched, blue eyes huge and apologetic, and his hands hung at his sides nervously. The look hit him in all the wrong places, making his insides squirm. 

Lance cleared his throat, drawing Keith back into reality. “But it was wrong of me to push you for my own selfish reasons.” The apology was overwhelming, his stomach dropping to dip into the cold, cold rush below. One word caught on the way down. “Keith, I really am sor—“ 

“Useless?” It’s all Keith can force out. Lance was knocked for six, the vulnerability in his eyes flinching, a ripple in the blue. Softening his tone, Keith urged himself on. 

“Lance… you can be a dense, eternally smug asshole, but… you’re far from useless.” Lance’s jaw dropped as many stories as the I’viran tower they had left. Keith ignored the shiver that shot through him at the look, hurrying on. “You know I can’t lie, so I’m telling you I think you’re a strong asset to the team—our one and only sharpshooter—and I don’t know how or why the hell you think otherwise, but you’re wrong.” 

They stared at each other for a long time before Lance tried, “But I—“ 

Keith doesn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “Nope. You’re wrong, and if everyone else was here they’d agree with me. Hell, even the lions would,” his lips were on a roll now, and he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let Lance believe such ridiculous lies. “You ever think about how Blue could’ve chosen any of us to pilot her?” he motioned around the cockpit. “We were all there when we found her, but she only reacted to _you,_ Lance.”

Something flashed underneath the surface of the blue, and Keith knew he was getting somewhere. Hopefully someplace good. 

“She knew you’d be the best pilot, and chose you from the five of us,” he pressed. “And frankly? I agree with her choice. So, yes, Lance, you’re wrong.” Lance was the team’s relief; he was always there when they needed a laugh, and even though he could be a huge ass, you could always rely on him when it counted—but it didn’t end there. He was so much more. 

He slowly brought his mouth to a close, his blue eyes beginning to sparkle. 

Keith had never been so alarmed in his life. 

Lance was about to _cry._

The boy sniffled and broke out into a crumbling but genuine laugh, hastily bringing his hands up to dry his dampening eyes. An outburst of exigency pressed against his skin, and it pulled his hands towards Lance’s face to wipe away the tears. He held back, that wasn’t something he could do. 

Then Lance smiled. His dusted, pink cheeks pushed up to make room for the growing smile as his brilliant blue eyes close entirely to crinkle at the sides. The look only broke when Lance hiccuped small, wet sounds. Keith couldn’t help but stare in wonder, warmth growing like fluffy, cottony soft bundles in his gut. He forgets to breathe.

_He’s beautiful._

The feeling spreads slow at first, then floods him within a moment’s moment when Lance reaches out. Clumsy but forceful arms wrap around him and pulling Keith in for a tight, suffocating hug. A small gasp escapes Keith, a sound heavily amplified by the quiet, as he remembers to breathe. He doesn’t know how long it takes him, but he eventually embraces Lance back. 

For a prolonged while, there was only the sound of Lance’s hiccuping and rapidly expanding chest pressed against Keith’s. A sharp chin buries itself into his clavicle, and Keith takes in a sharp breath. He had never seen Lance like this. Keith had only ever witnessed Lance’s arrogance, his cocky side that challenged Keith every chance he received. The thought never emerged that it was all a carnival’s mask. 

With time, Lance grew quiet, the already soft noises dissipating into nothing. Then, “Thank you.” He whispered into Keith’s ear as he drew back, his gratitude tickling Keith’s skin with warmth and tainting it with goosebumps. 

Once Lance’s face falls into full view, he can barely even tell Lance had been tearing up. If he hadn’t seen it himself, he would have ridiculed anyone who said so. The taller boy wore a huge smile on his face as he turned and broke away entirely. Lance stepped away to walk over to the control panel, leaving Keith to recover. Taking in some air, Keith steadily made his way over to where Lance sat, then froze. 

“There’s only one seat,” he realizes audibly, having the wonderful opportunity of hearing how stupid he sounded. Lance turned to look at him. “I… uh, is there someplace on the floor I can sit on, or…?” They each had their own lion and Keith cursed himself for not thinking ahead. He knew each of them only had one seat, meant for the pilot. 

“Sit in my lap.” 

Keith’s lungs malfunction, halting and nearly making him choke on his next words. “I—what?” he stammered. He inspected Lance, only being thrown off further. There wasn’t a commonplace, devilish glint in his eyes or a smug grin. His gaze was careful and sincere and caring, making Keith want to fall to his knees and keel over in confusion. 

Lance doesn’t notice the effect he has, “Here.” He shot Keith a small, encouraging smile and pat the space between his legs. 

“I… I don’t think…” Keith fumbled for words.

“Trust me,” Lance urged, tapping the waiting space again. If he was faking, acting nice just to get Keith to lower his guard, it was working. Keith sighed. After a short moment of hesitation, he stepped forward, turning around in front of Lance before gingerly bringing himself to sit down. 

The seat was just big enough for Keith to manage to sit in between Lance’s long legs. His back pressed up against Lance’s chest in the process, and he tensed at the touch. Lance just gave off so much heat, Keith could feel himself burning up. 

He didn’t think the situation could get any worse—until a familiar feeling of warmth wrapped around his stomach. Keith’s gaze shot down, finding a slender, tan arm pushed up against his abdomen. The movement compelled his entire backside flush against Lance, covering more area than before. 

“Okay, ready?” Lance asked, his breath grazing Keith’s neck. Keith felt his own breathing become uneven, his head flooding with bemused warmth and rendering any function impossible. Not trusting his voice, Keith nodded. 

He would be eternally grateful for the fact that Lance couldn’t see his face. 

—

Blue received a transmission, roughly a minute after takeoff, coming from the Castle. Lance cringed as the call connected. His grip around Keith tightened in anticipation. 

“—ot supposed to just let him go!” Allura’s voice. The screen flickered, but soon the whole gang came into view. Even Coran had taken a break from cleaning to pods to chime in. 

“Boys!” his ginger mustache blocked out the others, followed by a yelp and Shiro’s squared face budding in. 

“ _Lance!_ ” his disapproving tone shook the camera. Lance turned away, grimacing. “What did you _do?_ ” Lance sucked in a breath when a hand placed itself on Shiro’s shoulder, pulling him away. 

“For your information,” Lance shot back, still avoiding their faces. “I did just save Keith—or at least his hand in marriage—and, the alliance. So you should all be thanking me!” The others on the line quieted, then Shiro spoke again. 

“Keith?” 

Lance could only see the back of Keith’s mullet. The boy was like a statue in Lance’s cradling arms and it would be a lie if Lance tried—and failed—to say it didn’t tick him off. In a situation where their roles were switched, Lance would totally embrace the moment. 

_Not like that’s ever happened, hah,_ he reminded himself. It was a blessing that he wasn’t forced to tell the truth in thought, too. 

“He’s not lying,” Keith muttered. 

Pidge’s head popped up, barely reaching over the top of the screen. Her foxy smirk was easily visible. “Wait, Keith… are you, by chance… sitting in Lance’s lap?” Lance’s head snapped to Keith, curious for a reaction, but he couldn’t even manage a peak at his profile. Keith impossibly managed to tense up even more. 

“Ye-yeah, uh… Okay, well, I—“ Lance could feel him panic. “—Allura the I’virans should be contacting you soon and we wouldn’t want to interrupt such an important transmission so, bye!” he reached out, jolting with such force forward to end the call he nearly tore away Lance’s arm. Thankfully, Lance caught him, reeling him back. 

“Didn’t think being caught with me was so horrifying,” he chuckled lightly. Keith didn’t respond. Normally, Lance wouldn’t find a lack of reply so unnerving, but the atmosphere was different now. Keith was cold, but he had never been tense. At least, not around Lance. His thighs pressed against Keith didn’t seem to bolster the situation either. 

“Keith…” he started tentatively. “If you—“

“No,” Keith’s response came out a hiss. “Just… let’s get back to the Castle.”

Lance wanted to argue, wanted to question why the conversation grew stilted, but remembered where it had gotten him last time. He promised himself he wasn’t going to force Keith to speak his mind anymore. Staying true to his word, and not just because of some Altean serum, Lance nodded. 

“All right.” 

—

Everything only worsened when the two returned. 

The moment Blue landed, Keith left the cockpit. Shiro was there, waiting, quick to catch Lance and chew him out for trying to escape chores. Pidge stood staring and grinning at Keith, her glasses glinting with a god-awful glare. Allura and Hunk were muttering amongst themselves, smiling and sharing secrets as they side eyed the paladins. Coran had been the only one to welcome Keith with a pat on the back. 

“Glad you two handled the situation!” he chirped, then paused, lowering his voice. “You sure you are okay, lad?” 

Keith sighed, his chest dedicating an entire moment for the action. “I need a break,” he mumbled. “I’m going to… get something to eat.” He really wasn’t hungry; he wanted some peace and quiet. 

“Are you sure?” Coran asked, frowning. “Dinner is comin’ around in half a varga.” Not feeling up to offering a verbal affirmation, Keith nodded. 

The walk to the kitchen was a blur of empty hallways and jumbled thoughts. He had barely entered the dining hall before he had come to two realizations. There was no reason for him to have actually gone to the kitchen even though he had used the place as an excuse, and considering dinner was soon, he was more likely to run into someone here. He hadn’t even changed out of his armor yet. The smack of his own stupidity in the face was nothing compared to the next realization, however, which was more like a knee to the crotch. 

_The second day of this hell hasn’t even ended yet. How the hell am I supposed to survive a week?_ Considering how much he had said so far, he doubted _survive_ was the word he should be using. Keith needed a miracle.

He normally considered himself to be a player with his cards held close to his chest, but this truth serum was tossing him over and onto his head. Keith wasn’t used to sharing his plays, let along his deepest, internalized thoughts. Just the idea of the thing terrified him, and here he was, secrets spilling from his lips like they were dropping off Niagara Falls. 

“I can’t believe you rode Lance.” Keith’s head nearly snapped as it turned a full one-eighty. Pidge draped herself across the open doorway, her posture relaxed and smug. 

“Pidge?” he frowned, his body turning to realign with his face and now aching neck. “Wh…” 

“I mean, maybe Blue, but Lance?” she prodded on, standing up straight and making her way over to Keith. “Actually, I’m not that surprised. What does surprise me—horrify me, actually—is that I had to witness it with my own underage eyes.” 

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, shooting a disapproving look. “Pidge.” He didn’t tend to mind Pidge’s taunting, even inputting his own two cents, getting an amused smile, or on the rarer occasion, a laugh. 

This time was different. 

Keith wanted to tear his hair out, his only deterrent being that losing his mullet would just give Lance another thing to tease him over. His frustrations with stupid Altean juice was pushing him to his limits. 

_How can anyone cope with this?_ It was driving him mad. 

“Both Allura and Hunk found it cute,” her smirk became lopsided, but only grew in intimidation. She knew she was working him up, and was doing it on purpose too. He didn’t care to find out why. “I’m willing to bet they’re still talking about it.” Keith was fed up. 

“You guys just keep finding new things to bring up and I just—!” he growled in frustration, tangling his fingers into his hair before they could tighten into fists. “Can you _not?_ Please?” The last word came out as a plea; he sounded so drained and done, even to himself. 

Pidge’s eyes flickered behind the glass, and Keith caught something hidden in the glint of movement. He daresay it was a softer look—but chopped it up to his desperate optimism. “Why?” she asked with faux innocence. Pidge seemed to have cracked yet another code that seemed impossible to Keith, answering a question with a question. Keith hadn’t even thought of trying it. The truth just fled him before his mind could catch up. 

True to form, Keith replied without missing a beat. “Because—because! Lance will use it against me! And then I’ll freak and get embarrassed again and he’ll get so, _so_ annoyingly smug and I just—“ he broke off in an angered huff. 

_I can’t take it._

Pidge mimicked his body language, crossing her arms, albeit with significantly less sourness. “Just get back at him if it’s really something that bothers you,” she supplies. “He’ll shut up if you bring him down a few notches.” Coran’s words somehow squeezed their way into his head then, a trace of a reminder. 

_Giving out all your secrets only makes you weak it you allow it to. If you embrace those truths they will no longer be weaknesses—no one will be able to use them against you._ Maybe that was his saving grace. 

Taking in an unnecessarily long breath, Keith gave the genius in front of him a serious look. “You know what, Pidge? You’re right.” 

“As always,” she snorted back, but smiled, clearly satisfied. Keith stepped past her and left the kitchen, though not before giving her a swift and grateful pat on the back. 

Entering the joining hall, a familiar voice broke through the usual silence. Keith looked towards the commotion, finding its owner, Hunk, beside Lance. Both of which had their backs to Keith; they were laughing. Keith’s chest tightened and he felt the urge to go after him. 

_I’m going to fucking own this,_ he swore. _But not yet._ After all, patience yielded focus—or he sure as hell hoped it would, because he was going to need it for what he had planned. 

—

Lance was confused. 

At first, he thought he may just be overthinking things. Now he knew for a fact that he was. Thinking, or overthinking, as it was, Lance’s inability to read minds wasn’t the issue. _Plus, the truth serum kinda makes up for that,_ he was reminded. Even so, Keith was impossible to figure out. 

Lance had almost gone after him when he disappeared, following their return of I’vira. The impulse had been quickly shot down by an indignant Shiro, who spend a significant chunk of his time chastising Lance. It was ridiculous—he was getting punished for helping out.

“But you abandoned your responsibilities,” Shiro had rebuked. “Regardless of the outcome.” 

He had risen a brow. “So, let me get this straight, you think it would have been better for me to be _cleaning_ when Keith got manipulated by an I’viran princess?” Vindication was not an emotion he would consider feeling when Shiro had given him his trademark reproving dad look. Sulking sounded more appropriate. 

Hunk was quick to jump to his side, leading him away on the guise of a need for assistance. They wandered side by side, passing the training deck followed by the dinning hall. His friend slid into easy conversation, going on about some updates for the bayards he was planning with Pidge. Lance didn’t understand a word of the tech garble, but was happy to listen along all the same. 

The atmosphere broke when they neared the observatory. The conversation shifted, courtesy of Hunk, who was gentle enough about his question. 

“Would you like to… talk about… what happened?” he asked, drawing Lance’s attention away from a passing comet. “With Keith…”

He shot Hunk a sideways look. “What’re you talking about?” For the sudden topic at hand, it was a strange switch for Hunk to be the one nervous to talk about Keith. 

“Well,” Hunk mumbled. “Maybe you hadn’t noticed, but Keith looked pretty upset to me when you guys touched base.” Lance snorted at the unintentional innuendo, making Hunk shoot him a flat glare. “I’m serious. Did something happen?” 

Lance bit down on his lip. “I don’t know,” he said after a while. “He seemed fine, but then again he’s almost always frowning, so it’s not like I could tell. Maybe I said something and didn’t notice it…” A cold, brief insecurity floated past, and Lance didn’t get the chance to shove it away before it planted itself firmly in his gut. 

_Did I freak him out with the hug?_ His thoughts managed to be whispers, yet so loud he couldn’t avoid them no matter how hard he screamed. _Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that. I totally freaked him out._

Hunk stayed silent, glancing over to the stars, then shrugging. “I mean, you could always _ask_.” 

A thought struck, and Lance’s contorted figures twisted to form a small hint of a grin. Under the dimmed lights of the deck, he could practically see the idea shining as bright as the stars before them. The fear still lingered underneath his skin, pressing uncomfortably against his muscles, but the sensations numbed with newfound hope. 

Albeit asking Keith questions hadn’t worked out that well for him before, Lance didn’t know what else he could do besides internally panic. With a budding sense of ambition, Lance came to a decision. One more question, as a simple joke this time, could reassure Keith. He hadn’t intended to make things awkward between them—though admittedly the arm around his waist had been an overly indulgent gesture. 

_Maybe this way we can just go back to how it was… just dumb jokes and punches over embraces._

It would be better this way.

—

Dinner arrived much faster than anticipated, everyone gathering to eat together minutes after Lance’s conversation with Hunk. He hadn’t explained his plan to Hunk, not because he didn’t want to, but more that he wasn’t really sure what his plan was exactly. It was more of a concept rather than a fleshed-out plan. No biggie, he could improvise. 

Lance nearly let out a sigh of relief when Keith sat next to him, stopping when he realized Keith avoided his gaze. He was going to fix that. 

The majority of dinner went as normal, some of the paladins shooting either Keith of himself a surreptitious look. Coran had served up food goo as the main course, but it was a relief to everyone when Hunk revealed he too had prepared a meal. Though it was intended to be a side platter, it was easily the most eaten dish. Coran didn’t seem to mind too much. Everyone had gushed over the taste, Allura asking where Hunk had gotten such spices while Pidge stared at the strange, colorful roll like it was new droid technology. The whole meal went smoothly, up until Keith quietly stood up to leave. Conversations had fluttered out, everyone’s attention focusing on the red paladin. 

Lance panicked; he really should have planned this. 

Well, if he wanted to throw a jab at Keith to prove he had messed up earlier as well as take back his little over-emotional breakdown, what better way than in front of everyone in the Castle? 

“Hey, Keith,” Lance spoke with the semblance of confidence. He forced a smirk to seal the deal. “Don’t you think I’m really fucking hot?” Lance knew he wasn’t the only one expecting Keith to turn around, flustered and glaring and unable to riposte. It was the only way he knew he could throw Keith off. 

So when Keith spun on his heels, looking at Lance with a blazing intensity that rivaled I’vira’s seven suns, Lance wasn’t sure how to react. Frankly, he doubted Keith had heard him at all. _If he did, he couldn’t be this calm, right?_ Lance didn’t get another chance to speculate.

Keith strolled forward, his palm slamming directly into the space beside Lance’s face, forcing his chair to spin around and fully face Keith. With his free hand, Keith got a fistful of the lapels of Lance’s jacket, tugging him in so close their noses almost touched. Lance had forgotten how to breathe. 

Keith hadn’t bothered whispering. “Oh _god _—yes. If I could… I’d take you back to my room right now, kissing every inch of you long and slow, while stripping you bare. And then, I’d fuck you hard—so hard you wouldn’t be able to stand up straight for a week without remembering how I felt inside you.” Lance felt his heart drop off, flatlining. He gaped with wide eyes and open mouthed at the calm, collected boy in front of him. “So yeah, Lance, I think you’re really fucking hot, but you’d be even hotter screaming my name.”__

__Heat didn’t flush Lance’s face, it had wholly consumed both him and his body. To make matters worse, Keith didn’t leave him be with just that. The boy lingered. He waited, dark eyes glittering dangerously and shamelessly, wanting to see the effect his words had on Lance. Keith had spoken with such a casual tone—it tore through Lance’s entire being. Even _Lance_ knew he couldn’t say something like that, let alone in front of a group of people. Keith didn’t care. _ _

__When the most gratified, self-satisfied look swept Keith’s features, Lance’s blood went from boiling to full on lava, and he felt himself melt under the gaze._ _

___Dear_ god, _this boy owns my ass.__ _

__Keith didn’t look at anyone else. He released his hold, and Lance was sent reeling, nearly falling out of his chair at the abruptness. Without another pause, Keith turned and walked out, leaving a storm of astonished silence in his wake._ _

__Seconds later all hell broke loose._ _

__Pidge was the first to start screaming. She had quite literally taken it upon herself to jump onto the table, dishes clattering and cups spilling, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Do you guys hear that?” she went on without a response. “That’s the phone, _because I fucking called it!_ ” _ _

__Shiro was the next one to speak, but of course, only to try to bring back order and peace to the table. Keyword being try. “Pidge, language!” he demanded, voice raised, but was already chuckling alongside Allura._ _

__“Oh, come on!” she called back. “Lance got _fucking destroyed!_ ” Lance could only turn to stare at his friends, utterly stunned and offended._ _

__Hunk was doubling over himself with laughter, his chin tilted up to stare at his ridiculous, blushing best friend. It just made Lance’s face burn up even more with embarrassment. “I’m s-sorry man,” he heard Hunk say, “but your face—“ He broke off in another bout of unconcealed laughter._ _

__Lance wasn’t just going to need a cold shower, he was going to need to be ejected into the endless void of space for all eternity._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i make up for the long wait? ;)


	5. a bad question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the dream team gets thrown onto another planet, this time with a chance to fix their problems. hopefully they don’t screw it up :)
> 
> btw there's quite a bit of spanish from Lance this chapter, so i decided to throw in the translations at the end of the chapter to make it easier on u guys. enjoy!

Keith was grinning. 

His heart stuttered in his chest with adrenaline, blood rushing to his face as he left the room. Truly, a lot of bad had come from the situation in just two days, yet Keith couldn’t help but swell with pride at the win. In the aftermath of victory, he relished in the replaying image of Lance going red. 

Part of the pride Keith felt was shunted together with his budding embarrassment and disbelief. He had, without a doubt, said that. In front of everyone. He had heard the explosion of laughter as he had gone, none of which belonging to a certain blushing paladin. 

“For a flirt he sure does suck at reciprocating when he isn’t the one initiating,” he huffed to himself, unable to ignore the hint of amusement in his own voice. Lance may be dense, but there was no doubt he knew how Keith saw him. 

To Keith’s surprise, the realization didn’t terrify him as much as it once did. Coran was right; owning his emotions was infinitely better than running from them. 

Keith hadn’t continued walking when he left the dinning room. The moment he exited, Keith stepped to the side and pressed his back to the wall near the entrance. He wanted to hear the reactions himself because this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. His chest rose and dipped with vigor and his ears strained to hear with the sound of blood rushing to his head. 

He had almost made the mistake of laughing when Pidge shouted at the top of her lungs, though he doubted anyone would hear him over the clamour. Even Shiro was laughing. Not that Keith could hear him; he knew because Shiro would have continued scolding Pidge until she stopped cursing. Keith was grateful they had found the whole interaction amusing—awkward silence would have crushed his anticipation. 

Pidge’s piercing voice broke through the laughter again. “Wait, wait! Lance, does this mean you two are going to start dating?” she queried, breathless from the yelling. “Or are you going to skip straight to fucking?” Keith held his breath. This was it. Admittedly this wasn’t the way he’d imagine the question being asked, but it was finally being asked. He’d either be outright rejected, or maybe, just maybe, get a chance. 

“Pidge!” Shiro scolded once more, but the question had already been asked.

“No!” Lance’s voice rang out clearly, even to Keith. 

“To which question?” Hunk asked, curious. 

Someone inhaled deeply before replying, “B-Both!” Keith’s heart sank, all remnants of pride gone. So that was his answer. _At least now I know,_ he tried to reason. Before the rise of regret could muddle his thoughts, Keith pressed away from the wall. He didn’t need to hear anymore—he didn’t want to. He took a risk and it didn’t come out in his favor, so now he had to walk away. 

It was fine. 

—

Lance couldn’t handle all these eyes on him. Heart pounding across his chest, his eyes trailed to find a place that wasn’t invaded by someone’s grinning face. His own face was a mess and he didn’t need to look in a mirror to know. Keith hadn’t just gotten back at Lance, he had wrecked him. 

“Aw, come on!” Pidge attempted a faux pout, but her smirk broke through with ease. “He literally just admitted he has the hots for you, Lance!” His throat went so dry it cracked when he spoke up, his voice too high to be normal. 

“Y— _yeah,_ and that’s _it!_ ” he shot back, his back straightening and his chest puffing out. “But who doesn’t? I mean, I knew I was gorgeous but who knew—“ A series of groans erupted from the table, along with Pidge throwing in an eye roll as well, further emphasizing her frustration. 

_But they’re wrong,_ Lance knew. 

Keith had only done it to get back at him, he hadn’t actually meant anything by it. Sure they were obligated to speak the truth but commenting on Lance’s appearance didn’t imply something more. Lance had flirted with tons of attractive people for fun, but it never meant anything. This situation was the same, and Lance wouldn’t let false hope sprout where it had no chance at surviving. 

He wouldn’t let himself overthink this. 

Allura interrupted the chatter, clearing her throat and drawing in everyone’s attention with ease. “Well, I had hoped to speak to all the paladins, but it seems someone will have to brief him later instead,” she rose a brow, giving Lance a look that made him slink back down in his seat. She clasped her hands together. “Now, we have planned to keep you all occupied until the serum wears off, so we will be visiting other planets to form alliances with.” 

“Princess,” Shiro cut in. “Don’t you think we should spend time searching for a cure instead? We can form alliances anytime, and this serum leaves us vulnerable, even if only for a few more days.” 

Allura’s lips dipped down to form a thoughtful frown. “Well, that is true, but only if you end up in Galran hands. As long as you stay together and be careful, none of you need worry about leaking information to the enemy.” The thought hadn’t even crossed the shambles of Lance’s mind. Speaking truths—secrets you wouldn’t dare speak otherwise—against your will was more dangerous than Lance initially realized. It wasn’t just about letting loose immediate thoughts freely; this serum could cause one of them to slip up if they got caught, revealing key information about Voltron. 

“We’re working on it,” Allura replied, but her usual conviction had withered. “Now, please, go get some rest.” 

—

Lance had thought after that night it would end there. 

How painfully wrong he was. 

Keith’s confidence had skyrocketed after their not so private tête-à-tête at dinner. A certain air of nonchalance had taken over where Keith had once been flustered and at war with himself every time Lance asked a question. Now, Keith didn’t bat an eye when Lance attempted to fight back. Even when Lance tried to avoid Keith altogether, the boy wouldn’t give him a break. 

Lance stuck close to Hunk and Pidge on the third day, throwing himself into conversation anytime Keith walked by. They were all lounging around, Pidge on her laptop and Hunk tinkering with a strange, rectangular object with Lance sprawled against him. Since Shiro had called off training earlier, the paladins had gotten some free time. 

“Do you guys realize we never stop tasting our own tongues?” Lance asked, wanting to distract himself from his Keith-induced paranoia. Pidge scoffed at the question, opening her mouth to retort as Hunk sent his best friend a snort and lazy smile. 

However, the next words Lance heard didn’t come from either Pidge or Hunk. “How about I taste yours for a change?” Lance’s blood ran cold, then burst with life like a lit match falling into a tank of gasoline. The trio turned in sync, all staring at the doorway. Keith had already been looking to Lance, a flat look playing across his features. 

“ _Jesus,_ ” Hunk breathed out, turning back to his device. Lance could practically hear Hunk telling the two of them to get a room. 

Pidge’s eyes grew wide with shock mingled with devious amusement. A grin spread across her face, nearly reaching the base of her glasses. “You smooth fucker,” she exhaled. 

Lance’s cheeks had flushed pink, forcing his wide eyes to narrow. Hopefully portraying an angry glare, he opened his mouth to retort. He was pissed, embarrassed, and wasn’t going to let Keith get the last good, really good, insanely appealing, word anymore. He had a plan now. 

He let his flirty persona overtake him. “You got any Cuban in you?” he asked, giving Keith a suggestive look. Pidge was already groaning by his side but thankfully, as expected, the mullet-headed teen hadn’t heard this line before. 

“…No?” Keith frowned, raising a brow in response. 

Lance allowed himself a grin. He finger gunned, sending a wink Keith’s way. “You want some?” he asked. Usually, this was the point where he’d either get slapped or scoffed at. He hadn’t genuinely expected a response, momentarily forgetting about the serum. 

“Yes,” Keith answered without missing a beat. 

Just when Lance believed his blush had died down, it returned, worse than before. He could only stare at Keith. Out of all the thoughts running through his head, the one that caught and burrowed itself further into his mind was Keith’s reaction. Unlike before, where any honest expression Keith showed ended with him turning redder than his armor, Keith stared back. He didn’t react at all to his own words. It was as if their whole dialogue was a casual back and forth between them. 

“W-was not expecting that…” Lance stammered. He let out a short, weak laugh, trying to give himself time to recover. 

The silence was drawn out until it was worse than spoiled milk; it was awkward. Everyone was waiting for someone else to speak up, Keith standing a few feet away silently—shamelessly. Lance couldn’t understand how he spoke without remorse. He was sure Keith had found a way to transfer his embarrassment to Lance. 

“ _Attention, Paladins, please come to the main deck immediately,_ ” Allura’s voice crackled through the castle’s speakers. Lance jostled a bit. He knew there were alarms, but he hadn’t known about the speakers. 

Pidge jumped to her feet, quick to leave with Hunk close on her trail. Lance held back, hoping that Keith would go ahead with the others. Normally he would have gone with them for backup, but after what had just happened, he knew the others would tease him. He didn’t want to deal with any more embarrassment right now. 

The situation didn’t get any better.

Keith stayed behind, watching Lance stand up from his crisscross position on the floor. “Can we stop this, Lance?” Keith asked. He couldn’t return Keith’s intense gaze. 

Lance tried to raise his voice, but ended up muttering, “And give up?” He scoffed, “No way, mullet. I’m not losing this.” Not meeting those cool, periwinkle eyes, he could only hear Keith sigh. Lance shouldered past him, trying to get ahead with Keith falling in step beside him. 

“Since when did this become a competition?” Keith asked, arms wrapped tightly across his chest. 

Reluctance rose in Lance’s gut, not wanting to answer the question. Knowing he couldn’t avoid it, he kept his voice low. “It always has been…” From his peripheral, he watched Keith’s head whip towards him. Lance ignored the stare entirely. 

“Lanc—“ 

“There you two are,” Allura’s voice broke through the awkwardness once again. Though this time it wasn’t through overhead speakers. _Thank quiznak._ Lance looked up, realizing they had joined the others. Allura stood by Coran and Shiro, all wearing matching, thrilled expressions. From Hunk and Pidge’s equally puzzled looks, they had no idea what was going on either. 

“We’re stopping at a nearby planet,” the princess went on. “We only have room for two people to go and two plans in mind.” He aimed his attention at Shiro, who did not react in the slightest. “Our main concentration is forming a bond with the Opwaen.” Shock rose from his gut up, causing Lance’s confusion to spiral further. Shiro was never one to lash out, but Lance had expected _something_ from their team leader.

A strangled sound escaped Lance’s throat. “ _What?_ ” he choked out, shooting Shiro a disbelieving look. “Seriously? You were the one who said we should focus on finding a cure in the first place— _we can form alliances anytime,_ “ he echoed. 

Without a verbal response, Shiro brought his hand up, palm facing Lance to tell him to wait. Allura went on, completely undeterred, “I was getting to that. Our second goal is to persuade the Opwaen to give us their remedy.” 

“They figured out the cure?” Pidge asked, her glasses glinting as she pushed them up, not believing what she was hearing. 

Allura smiled. “They helped the Alteans create it,” she explained, shrugging. “We were the primary contributors, but they did pitch in quite a bit with production.” Coran nodded beside her, despite being void of a smile. 

“Why only two?” Keith spoke up. 

“What do you mean?” Allura hummed in response, turning away from Pidge to meet his gaze. Lance did the opposite, relying on his sense of hearing to pay attention to Keith. 

“Why two representatives instead of one? Like usual?” he restated. 

“Ah,” she replied, understanding. With the strike of revelation in her widened eyes came hesitation. The look made Lance grow uncomfortable. “With what happened last time… we thought it to be better having physical backup rather than just the comms.” Though reluctant, Lance admitted the princess had a point. 

Keith, despite Lance’s many protests, wasn’t an inherently horrible person. He was intense and cold at times, but not bad. It was no secret that Keith was a loner, spending an entire year by himself in a desert, so his substandard social skills astonished no one. Allura could have only sent him because she felt bad. 

_Was I really that awful?_ Lance knew he made a mistake teasing Keith so much, but was it obscene enough to be worthy of Allura’s pity? _Maybe I do deserve mullet’s payback…_

“I’m sorry,” Keith said suddenly, pulling Lance out of the pitiful hole he had dug himself into. _What?_ Lance should be the one apologizing. Again. He had been the jerk to start their dumb rivalry in the first place. “I messed up the deal and caused trouble with the I’virans, I shouldn’t have—“

“Keith,” Allura’s tone was that of a mother scolding a child—which honestly, wasn’t far off the mark. “We earned the alliance in the end, and even better, you saved their princess. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been the one to go.” Her words were sympathetic but true. 

“In fact,” Shiro swooped in. “We thought you should be one of the people to go.” Lance guessed Keith didn’t look too excited at the prospect, because Shiro quickly added, “You’d also be able to get the cure first—that is, if you can convince them.” 

Lance knew where this was going; praying on Keith’s competitiveness was the simplest way to get Keith to do what he wanted. Being called a jackass paid off if it let Lance get under his skin. Unsurprisingly, the taunt worked. 

“Fine,” Keith grunted. “I’ll go.” Lance had expected the reaction, but hearing his compliance struck a cord. He wasn’t going to let Keith get the jump on him. Keith being cured for even a second longer would leave Lance unprotected. There had to be balance, whether or not they were cursed. 

“I’m going too,” Lance stated. Before anyone had the chance to argue, he made his case. “I’m the best talker on this team, no one can make a person swoon like I can—“ Keith and Pidge snorted in sync, “—and I’m the most comfortable in social situations. Unlike _someone…_ ” For the sake of making a point, Lance finally met Keith’s eyes. 

The teen opened his mouth to debate, then proceeded to slowly close it. Lance grinned, satisfied. He was familiar with the sad attempt of lying under their curse. There was no way Keith was winning this one. 

“See?” Lance sneered, enjoying the moment. “Keith agrees with me.” 

Sounding strangled, Keith fought back. “ _No!_ ” he shouted a little too aggressively. “I’m not going with Lance.” Lance jutted out his hips, rotating on his heels to face Keith entirely. When Keith returned the gesture, Lance poked him square in the chest. 

“ _I’m_ more qualified,” he sung back. “Either you can help me get the cure or you can sit here on your ass and wait for me to come back and save it for you.” Keith poked back with such force that Lance almost stumbled back. 

“ _My_ ass?” he gaped. “I’m not the one who invited myself along because no one else would.” Lance faked a gasp, stepping back like he had a late reaction to Keith’s poke. 

“Are you sure you two aren’t dating?” Hunk asked. Though the question was predominantly aimed at Lance, both of them reacted, each squawking out their utter repudiation. Allura had decided for them, forcing the two of them to go to shut them up. Lance would have whined endlessly if she had only chosen Keith, and he knew Keith would have pouted vice versa. This way, she wouldn’t have to deal with either of them. 

_Win, win, win situation._

—

Keith was not happy. 

For the second time this week Keith was stuck with Lance on a foreign planet. The Opwaen residents were on the far side of the scale in comparison to their previous alien encounter. Where I’virans were towering creatures, the Opwaen were small—shorter than Pidge. 

“They deserve an award, just for that,” Lance joked, earning a cold glare from him. The two of them were alone in a huge cushioned room, crystalline fountains in every corner and huge pods inches off the ground, held up by thread-thin wire. The walls were made of a substance similar looking to that of royal blue Earth bricks. The setup seemed strangely out of place, like expensive, ostentatious furniture placed in a cheap back alley apartment. The two of them had been assigned a pod. There was no real reason for the decision, considering no one else was in the room. 

Lance hadn’t brought up Keith’s dinner outburst—not that he needed to anymore. Keith had heard enough, knowing how Lance felt without having to face the burning shame of rejection. Logically, he knew he had gotten lucky. He couldn’t understand why hearing the truth was like walking straight into one of the room’s many brick walls, he was supposed to be grateful. All he felt was the sinking feeling of disappointment weighing him down. 

The silence between them was no longer stilted. To Keith, it had grown boring; he had nothing he could expect or hope for from their conversations anymore. Not when he knew the truth. He wouldn’t waste his time anymore with hope, they were paladins after all, and they had a job to do. 

“When we meet their ruler, don’t jump the gun,” Keith told Lance, giving him a short look. Lance remained reluctant to meet his eyes. He held back a hefty sigh. “Make sure to prioritize the mission before the cure. We don’t want to make it seem like we’re only here for their medicine inste—“

“Wow, I knew you had a stick up your ass but I didn’t realize it was this bad,” Lance interrupted without shame. “How do you have friends? Bribery? Promising special favors?” Keith ignored the implications of Lance’s last words. 

He didn’t mind answering a question for a change. “I don’t,” he said simply. The cushions to his right dipped as Lance shifted over.

“What?” Keith could hear the frown in his voice. “You seriously don’t consider any of us your friends? Even Shiro?” The incredulity soaked each word Lance spoke, almost sounding offended. 

A frown brought Keith’s mouth down into a twisted parabola of a look. “No, I-I do, it’s just—I don’t—it’s d-different…” his frown dipped with every stutter. “Can you stop asking me questions?” For the first time today, the two locked gazes. Blue eyes widened, the parallel surprise Keith felt reflecting off in them. Only then did Keith notice how close Lance had scooted towards him. 

“Why?” Lance’s brows drew together. “I’m not even asking bad questions.” 

Keith glowered back, “That’s not a bad question.” 

“Oh?” There was a tone shift in the simple sound, and Keith knew there was a challenge incoming. Lance leaned in, “Then tell me, _princess,_ what’s a bad question?” Keith knew his face was heating up, abhorring the existence of the word. Lance wasn’t getting away with that.

His interest in making conversation skyrocketed, rising to meet the challenge. Keith scoured his mind for a retort, somewhat taken aback he didn’t have an immediate response. Lance’s features smoothed out, adopting a smug look as Keith took longer to say something. He wanted nothing more than swipe the infuriating grin off his face. 

Then it hit him harder than Keith wanted to hit Lance. 

Acting on the rush of sure victory, Keith reached out and dared to hook his fingers into the black under suit of the Blue paladin’s armor. Tugging forward, he stopped only when there was inches between their faces. 

“I got one,” he smirked with a purposeful, vicious edge. “Tell me, do you remember the bonding moment?” The reaction was both instant and instantly gratifying. 

Lance blanched, color draining from his face. Keith watched as Lance’s lips formed an ‘o’ wider than his eyes. This was the kind of silence Keith could genuinely enjoy: filled with the isolating sounds of running water and the internal screams of the boy before him. The terror that swarmed his frozen gaze was so intense Keith had almost laughed. In retrospect, he probably would have too if Lance hadn’t gotten an amazing struck of luck. 

“Por supuesto,” he whispered under his breath. Keith thought his mind had an aneurysm from the excitement, taking another moment before realizing Lance was speaking his native tongue. “¿Cómo podría olvidarlo? Me gustas mucho, idiota.” Lance was equally slow on the uptake, the terror dissolving into soft relief as he realized Keith couldn’t understand. 

Keith went back to glaring. “I understood that last word, idiot!” His irritation fueled Lance’s newfound hauteur. 

Lance’s hand came up around Keith’s wrist, right below the band of his fingerless gloves. Warmth spread across his skin, and Keith had to suppress a shiver. Too smug to mean anything good, Lance gradually brought Keith’s hand down into his lap. 

“Ojalá fuera bizco para verte dos veces,” Lance murmured, a dorky smile overtaking the smug one. “Ya no sería un tirador de primera, pero valdría la pena.” Keith groaned, tearing his hand away to throw his arms into the air. 

“What are you _saying?_ ” 

“Piropos,” he answered with a shrug. “Si tus ojos fueran el cielo y tu boca el mar, me gustaría ser el horizonte para poderte besar.” The cocky smirk returned. “Lástima que tus ojos no sean azules… pero los míos son.” 

“Lance!” he shouted. The sound was drowned out when one of the room’s many double doors burst open, loud, heavy footsteps echoing behind them. The two practically dropped to the floor, Keith tripping up and falling on his ass and Lance letting out a high-pitched squeak as he bolted to the edge. 

“Paladins of Voltron!” an emphatic voice exclaimed. It was silky smooth and Keith wondered if there was a big body to match the size of lungs it would take to speak so loud. When he turned, Keith wasn’t expecting the belying, slim body of a queen. Not only was the size of her baffling, but as was the fact she was a woman; since they had arrived, they had only seen dozens and dozens of waves of other guys. Keith hadn’t had an issue with it, unlike Lance, and assumed the Opwaen were hermaphrodites, preferring one sex over the other for whatever reason. 

This queen looked nothing like the other tanned, shorter humanoid Opwaens with beady eyes. She was a few inches away from being level with Keith, as well as being the only Opwaen to have hair. “I’m Queen Peri Hiame. It’s a pleasure meeting you two, Red and Blue. A dynamic duo, I assume?” 

Keith had picked himself up, dismissing her assumption as soon as the figurative question mark left her nonexistent lips. Lance wasn’t far behind him. 

“Ah, I see,” she smiled, glossy skin pulling back to reveal grated teeth. “Your princess informed me you came for the confederate meeting and you would be staying overnight until then.” Peri paused awkwardly. “But that there was another issue to be addressed as well?” 

Keith stepped forward, taking a respectful bow. “Indeed, Queen Hiame,” he began but was fluidly caught off. 

“No need,” she replied, returning the gesture. “Call me Peri, no need for such formalities with the three of us alone.” Four guards stood by the door she had entered, so Keith reckoned she didn’t think much of her subjects. 

Lance moved up to her, going past the threshold to reach out and take Peri’s small hand to press a kiss to it. “My lady,” he said, then withdrew. The movement had been fast, and Keith was surprised he hadn’t lingered, not attempting to throw a line or two at the Queen.

 _Maybe he finally found himself some self-respect._

Peri tittered, smiling as she roughly wiped her kissed hand across her dress. He watched Lance freeze beside him and chuckled. For his sake, Keith hoped the Queen wasn’t aware of small human customaries, thus not realizing what her action entailed. Even if it wasn’t the case Keith still found the entire interaction amusing. 

“Now, you said you had a problem?” Peri asked with a kind smile. 

“Yes.” Keith cut straight to the chase. “You have the cure for Altean truth serum, and we wanted to know what we needed to do to get it.” 

“As soon as possible,” Lance added. 

The Queen’s smile dissipated, switching to an unhidden, calculating expression. She hummed thoughtfully, her beady eyes flickering between the paladins. “Are you sure you want to rush it?” she inquired, eyes narrowing and somehow not losing effect without her having eyebrows. 

“Yes,” the two answered simultaneously, nodding. 

She crossed her arms, closing herself off. “Good news is we can give it to you easily,” she told them. Lance let out an animated cheer, pumping his fist up in the air. 

“But?” Keith supplied. 

Peri shook her head, her smile weakening. “But… first must first prove yourselves to us.” Before either of the paladins could ask, she continued. “You must be able to face the truth—your truths—and overcome them.” 

“…That’s it?” Lance muttered, hesitant to speak hence interrupting the Queen if she went on. Peri’s skin crinkled in a way that implied she rose a brow, if she had any. “Oh, man, we’re all in then. When can we start?”

Peri took a moment to analyze Lance, shaking her head disapprovingly at his naivety. Turning to Keith, she gave him a solemn look. “Are you ready, Red?” 

In spite of the serum, Keith would have answered without delay. “Whenever you are.” With another moment’s pause, Peri gave a final nod, raising her hand. Keith didn’t know what to anticipate, but a snap of her fingers wasn’t what he’d imagine would begin another trial of horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi so fyi i’ve messed up on even the simplest spanish stuff before so if u see any typos feel free to tell me!  
> also comments are always appreciated; i love screaming w u guys bc idk what's happening either
> 
> anyway, here are the added spanish translations (i understand the struggles fam i gotchu)
> 
> “Por supuesto.” = “Of course.”  
> “¿Cómo podría olvidarlo? Me gustas mucho, idiota.” = “How could I forget? I like you a lot, idiot.”  
> “Ojalá fuera bizco para verte dos veces. Ya no sería un tirador de primera, pero valdría la pena.” = “I wish I were cross-eyed so I could see you twice. I wouldn’t be the sharpshooter, but it would be worth it.”  
> “Piropos.” = “Pick up lines.”  
> “Si tus ojos fueran el cielo y tu boca el mar, me gustaría ser el horizonte para poderte besar.” = “If your eyes were the sky and your mouth were the sea, I’d like to be the horizon to be able to kiss you.”  
> “Lástima que tus ojos no sean azules… pero los míos son.” = “Pity that your eyes aren’t blue… but mine are.”


	6. for now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance, love, you’re going to regret this

Everyone took action, enacting the exact opposite way Keith would have guessed. Two guards left the room, going ahead while the remaining two waited for Peri. The Queen didn’t say a word as she departed from the room, and had no hint at what they were supposed to do next. The doors slammed behind the retreating Opwaens. 

“Um, hello…?” Initially Keith had thought Lance had spoken, but the speaker’s voice came from another side of the foyer. Its voice was strangely disconnected compared to other Opwaens they had spoken to. Keith couldn’t decipher if they were another in a long line of males, or the second female Opwaen they had met today. 

The paladins turned, queasy with constant back and forth. It was indeed a new Opwaen, its skin paler than Keith had seen from any previous Opwaen, was positioned too close to Keith’s personal bubble. It stepped back as Lance screeched beside him—whether from alarm or enthusiasm, Keith wasn’t the one to ask. Keith could never tell with him. Lance, however open and kind he seemed, was a total enigma to him. 

The creature before them shrieked back happily. It didn’t seem to understand the gesture, but unlike with Keith, his misunderstandings of Lance didn’t seem to matter. “Hello!” it hummed towards Lance. “I am your proctor for your trials, if you’ll please follow me.” If this place wasn’t surprising already, the creature stepped backward and pressed against a jutting pile of blue bricks. 

“Secret entrances!” Lance gasped, bringing up his palms to squish against his cheeks. Keith looked away before his mind could comment on how cute he looked. _Oh, I—wait—didn’t mean—_

The Opwaen tilted its head in a way that should’ve cracked its neck. “Secret? No no, everyone knows,” it muttered, passing through the small doorway. The way Lance failed to hesitate, letting his now clear excitement chase after the Opwaen made Keith want to sigh. Instead, he brought his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

They didn’t have contact with the others like Keith did back on I’vira. If they got in a sticky situation, they’d need to activate their comms before they could call for help. That extra second could be the difference between life and death, especially considering they were about to engage in some insane sort of evaluation. It was a chance at the cure though, and the sooner he could escape this hell the better. Keith paused at the thought. 

_Maybe these Opwaens are right about facing our issues…_

The mindset had worked when Coran suggested it—though Keith’s contentment was quickly shredded to ribbons after hearing Lance’s outburst when Keith left the dinning room. He often told himself he was thankful to know, but that was far from the truth. 

_It fucking sucked._

He was torn over this ridiculous, oblivious boy walking beside him, and it only served to make Keith hate himself. Back on Earth, Keith would have laughed at anyone who fell for the notion of liking a straight guy. Today he was in the very position he had mocked, the only one laughing at him now being a sick sense of irony. 

“Who goes?” the creature had long since stopped, pressed against the wall that separated two separate doors. To its left was a heavy, metal door without a handle and a dent here and there. On the other side of the Opwaen was a simplistic, pull-to-open kind of door. 

“What?” Keith grimaced. 

“Who will go in and try to face fears?” the Opwaen elaborated, lacing its fingers together, patient enough to repeat himself. 

“We can’t go together?” Lance asked. Keith tried not to flinch. Facing his secrets was difficult in itself, the idea of Lance tagging along a terror he wasn’t willing to deal with. 

“No,” Keith shot out, catching the attention of both the blue paladin and the Opwaen. “I-I can handle this on my own,” he clarified, stepping forward, hoping he didn’t piss Lance off with his ‘arrogance.’ A palm pressed to Keith’s stomach, pulling him back as Lance tutted. 

“Nope, no way, not happening.” Lance moved forward, taking his place. “You’re not taking the spotlight, mullet.” 

Keith gaped. “What? I’m not! This isn’t—” 

“Too late, I’m going,” Lance interrupted before turning to the Opwaen. “Okay, what do I have to do?” Keith hadn’t been trying to jeer him on, but Lance had thrown himself forward regardless. He didn’t have to do anything half the time for Lance to go on screaming about their so-called rivalry. It was exhausting. 

Beady eyes went between them, narrowing as it scanned the two. “Well, blue paladin, you must enter the room to my left. Inside, you will confront your truths,” it informed. “However, do understand it is all fake. A projection of your mind, if you will. Though if it becomes too much for you, you are permitted to stop the simulation by saying, ‘I give up.’” Lance snorted. 

“Pft, that won’t be necessary,” he blew the creature off, stepping in front of the door. “How do I…?” Lance reached out, his gloved hands pushing the door. The metal began to glow a tinted blue, sliding down suddenly and disappearing into the floor below. “Oh. Okay.” 

Lance turned around, giving Keith one last grin and wave. “See you soon, nerd.” He moved away, stepping backwards into the dim room behind him. Keith held his breath as the door slid back up with unnecessary asperity, slamming against the roof of the now closed entrance. 

It was dead silent for minutes.

Keith was about to step after him, his instincts telling him to go after Lance, that something had gone horribly wrong, when the proctor spoke up. “Usually only I may go in and watch, but I am offering you to come in and see,” it said. Keith sensed there was something between the lines, frowning, but he couldn’t quite pick it out. 

He shook his head. “It’s not my place,” Keith admitted. “If the situation was switched, I wouldn’t want him invading my privacy either.”

“You won’t hear. You won’t see what he sees,” the proctor went on, already opening the other door. “You should see his pain.” 

Cold struck Keith deep down in his gut, goosebumps freckling his skin at the sudden temperature drop. “ _Excuse me?_ ” It came out as a growl. The Opwaen’s beady eyes widened in a way Keith hadn’t anticipated. 

“That not threat,” it stumbled over its words. It seemed their English grew broken when they were worried or stressed. “Please—see,” they pleaded, walking through the right door. Keith stepped after them on impulse. 

“What?” Keith asked, incredulous. “What’re you talking about?” The creature didn’t answer, shutting the door behind them and nudging Keith into the center of the tight, dark room. “Is he okay? Why won’t you answer me?”

Instead of addressing Keith, the proctor nodded to one of the walls, its eye contact engaged with the inanimate object. “Look,” it said, more imploring than a demand. Keith looked, and realized some crucial information. 

The wall was in fact, not a wall. It was a thick pane of tinted glass, taking up the entire wall and showing another room. Lance was in it, on his knees. He was looking down, brown strands of hair falling over his face and shielding his expression. He looked like a prisoner, yet wasn’t held down by chains or cuffs. It was the dejected state, the slump of Lance’s broad shoulders, as he stared at the ground. Keith ran to the glass, pounding his fist against it, calling his name. 

“He can’t hear you,” the proctor spoke at his side. 

Keith flared, turning to him. “What?” he had lost his cool. “Why?” His look hardened as he gazed back to Lance, looking utterly defeated in just minutes of being in the empty room. Keith slammed his fist once more against the glass. 

“This room is for observing,” they explained. “We can see him, he cannot see us. It is how we make sure there is no foul play.” Keith’s eyes wouldn’t leave the crushed figure on the floor, going cold despite how hard his heart was pounding. 

“What the hell are you doing to him?” he gasped out, as if he was the one in pain. “You—“ Keith was cut off. No one had stopped him from speaking; the sight he saw next enough to shut him up. 

Lance looked up, his eyes wet and so incredibly miserable Keith had to force himself not to look away. Those blue eyes locked with Keith’s, as if there wasn’t a one-way partition between them. Lance’s lips moved, and he only grazed one word from it. 

_Keith._

Keith’s heart virtually stopped, skipping enough beats to be kicked out of any band. He tried to look away, his eyes being pulled in by the sight, but could only manage to look at the empty space beside the crestfallen boy. He wasn’t paying attention to the Opwaen anymore, only observing the small, jerky movements of Lance’s lips as he spoke.

Even so, he could vaguely hear the proctor mutter. “I knew he had sad eyes.” 

—

When the door had slid back up, Lance kept his hand up for a while, stuck mid-wave as he stared himself in the mirror. The lighting wasn’t the best, but Lance could still make out the details of the room. It had become apparent that the door he had gone through had a mirror on its opposite side. In fact, Lance had realized the entire room was mirrors—the walls, the ceiling, even the floor. A part of him felt guilty for stepping on the ground, knowing his mama would smack him back home. 

_But I’m not home, _he was reminded.__

__“Haha very funny guys,” Lance huffed. “I’m not _that_ obsessed with myself.” He paused, looking around at the plagued with the image of himself. “I do look good, though,” he nodded to himself, bringing his hand up to his chin. Keith would have rolled his eyes if he were here._ _

___But he isn’t._ _ _

__Lance frowned, running fingers through his hair. “Uhm, so… are we starting soon or…?” He received no answer. The room was virtually silent, save for his own constant breathing and occasional footsteps. Guilt swept through him as he crossed the room, his feet scuffing the impeccable floor._ _

__“You’re right to feel bad.”_ _

__Lance virtually fell over at the voice, not because it was surprising, but because of who it belonged to. He looked over, his eyes landing on the impossible figure before him. “Wh—“ he croaked, blinking. “How…?” Lance stumbled over to her, his arms reaching out to embrace his mother._ _

__She stepped back._ _

__Lance froze. “Mama…?” he asked, his thoughts jumbled and confused. The back of his mind knew this wasn’t real, a simulation, but Lance didn’t want to accept it. He had thought this would be bad. “Mama what’s wrong?”_ _

__Her face had slowly contorted into a look of disgust; it wasn’t an expression she wore often, maybe when she was cleaning Lance’s room a few times, but it was never directed at him._ _

__“You abandoned us,” she hissed. Her bitter words forced Lance to step back. “You left and never thought of telling us.”_ _

___Us?_ _ _

__One by one, members of his family appeared—not all of them. The room would be overflowing if that happened, entirely too small for that, but rather a few of them, the cousins he had always been close to, his aunts and his father._ _

__“No, mama, no,” he shook his head, reaching out again. “I’m saving the universe. I-I know how it sounds, but I swear to you—“ His father smacked Lance’s outstretched hand, making Lance exclaim with surprise. He drew his hand back to his chest, cradling it._ _

__“Go back to your new _family,_ ” his father spat. Lance went cold. “You clearly don’t want us.” _ _

__Lance opened his mouth to retort, scream how wrong they were, how torn he was that he couldn’t visit Earth because they had a mission. He didn’t get the chance._ _

__“We don’t want him either.”_ _

__Lance turned. Shiro was there, as well as Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and even Coran. Someone was missing, his mind told him, but he couldn’t listen over his internal havoc. Logic was not a card in Lance’s deck._ _

__“Wh—guys, I…” He knew it was fake. It was just for show, and after it all Lance could return to the others, a hero with the serum._ _

___But it hurt so much._ _ _

__“Don’t argue,” Allura chipped in, sounding diplomatic as usual. She spoke as if she were exchanging casual conversation to a stranger. As if it meant nothing. “You think we wouldn’t notice? How you’ve been falling behind?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Pidge started, adjusting her glasses. “We all have a talent—multiple, even. But you…”_ _

__“You don’t really have anything going for you, buddy,” Hunk finished shyly. Lance could only gape at his best friend, his heart breaking a little._ _

__“You too?” he whispered, gloom infiltrating his voice. Hunk simply nodded, not meeting his eyes. They all acted as they normally would, their expressions and the way they held themselves an accurate depiction of reality._ _

___But they’re fake,_ he reminded himself. He could barely hear the words he told himself, the unending chokes and sobs of his mind telling him otherwise. Lance didn’t know how to react. _ _

__“How am I supposed to fight this?” he breathed out unevenly. Lance heard himself laugh, his lungs heaving out a strangled, wet sound as he fell to his knees._ _

__A scoff came from another side of the room of mirrors. Lance compelled himself to turn, promising himself this would be the last time._ _

__“You aren’t supposed to.” Keith. Keith was looking down at him, as usual. It was unfair; Lance had an inch on him and yet he always felt smaller than the red paladin. The only difference now was there was no frown or guarded look. He looked totally blank._ _

__“I know you care about me,” Keith went on, and Lance’s windpipe collapsed, letting out a choked sound._ _

__“W-Wh— _hahaha,_ what do you mean?” he spluttered, forcing a weak smile. His hands were shaking incessantly. “N-no I don’t.” Lance froze. _ _

___I can lie._ _ _

__The moment was short-lasted, as the second the words left his lips, sharp pain engulfed him. He caved in on himself, letting out a short scream until the agony subsided with a sudden halt. It left Lance gasping for air._ _

___Nevermind._ _ _

__“O-oh fuck—okay. Okay, yeah. Yeah I do you’re right,” he admitted, his head held down. Lance let himself catch his breath, trying to think of a way to undo what he had said. “Bu-but, I care about all the paladins… even the short asshole.” Keith didn’t snort at that, staying silent in the aftermath of Lance’s joke._ _

__“Are you sure that’s it?” Keith spoke up, his voice colder than he thought possible. Even for Keith. “That’s where it ends?” he asked._ _

__Lance didn’t respond. In this room, he didn’t have to. He was free to answer freely, which meant _not answering even if threatened with a visit to Davy Jones’ locker_ was a viable option. He was taking that option. _ _

__He hadn’t expected much, but the dead laughter that spilled from Keith’s smooth lips left him thunderstruck. “Well, I’m going to help you out,” Keith said. Lance didn’t dare look up. “You don’t handle rejection—real rejection—that well, so I’m going to save you the time and tell you now.”_ _

__The avoidance of Keith’s gaze seemed to tick him off, since his words were followed by heavy footsteps towards him. A gloved hand came into view, gripping Lance’s jaw and tugging up roughly. Their gazes met, faces so close Lance couldn’t breathe._ _

__Keith was smiling._ _

__It was the biggest smile he had ever seen on the red paladin, and the fact that he had only seen it from some messed-up fake hurt more than he was willing to admit. This Keith didn’t seem to notice how his heart stop._ _

__“I don’t care about you at all.”_ _

__A cold shot down his spine and spread through his entire body. It was unlike any cold he had felt before, running through him and leaving him empty and frozen. He hardly noticed himself flinch in Keith’s hand._ _

___No,_ he yelled, but the words wouldn’t come out. _This—this is fake. I know it’s fake. I… I know it is.__ _

__Another part of him whispered, _Face the truth.__ _

__This couldn’t be true. His family was waiting back on Earth, his space pals loved him just as much and were waiting back on the ship for him, and Keith…_ _

__Lance opened his mouth, “You’re not real.” He commanded his eyes to narrow, ignoring how his body trembled as if in pain. “Keith may not feel the way I do but he cares—“ Another laugh, shorter this time. More like an amused scoff._ _

__“Really?” Keith challenged. “How come I can flirt with you so easily? How come I don’t care about the words I say to you? How come I could say the shit I did back at dinner in front of everyone, without a wink of hesitation?” he snorted. “I’m _using you,_ you idiot. You’re fun to play with, but that’s all. Don’t lie to yourself, _you mean nothing to me._ ” _ _

__Lance didn’t want to be here anymore. His heart was crying out in pain as it pounded against his chest, trying to escape, his lungs ineptly attempting to go on. He shouldn’t believe this, they were lies._ _

___Are they?_ _ _

__“That’s—that’s not true!” he yelled back. “I can prove it! I can ask—“_ _

__“Ask him how he feels? Really?” Fake Keith laughs again; it was such a hollow sound. “You’ve had the chance since day one and haven’t used it. Admit it. You’re scared of the truth, McClain.” Lance wanted to argue, he really did, but there was no point._ _

___He’s right._ _ _

__Lance knew how it would end. His family would never hate him, he knew that. Seeing them like that was painful but it wasn’t real. His space family cared for him, at the very least, finding him useful in little ways._ _

___But Keith…_ _ _

__He was a wildcard, but Lance knew what would happen there. He had no chance._ _

__“I give up.”_ _

__The fake Keith had retracted his hand, allowing Lance to once again look his reflection at the floor. He looked dreadful. It was quiet for a while after that, and Lance had nearly believed he had gone. “What?” Keith asked._ _

__“I give up,” he repeated, too tired to get angry. There was the sound of heavy metal sliding and the shuffle of feet, but Lance didn’t look up. He hadn’t realized how tired he was._ _

__“Lance.” Keith spoke again. Lance wanted to laugh this time, but restrained, not wanting to let out another wrecked sob. “ _Lance,_ ” the voice had gotten closer—softer. Hesitant but warm arms wrapped around him, and Lance was pulled into a body. “Are you okay?” _ _

__“No,” his mouth spoke for him. _Great, it’s back._ His mind mocked him for hoping otherwise. _ _

__No one spoke for a while, though Keith did shift, and Lance could sometimes feel his head turn to look at someone across the room._ _

__“I’ll do it.”_ _

__Lance shot up, sitting rigidly in Keith’s lap. “Keith, no,” he instructed, his voice coming out as a feeble squeak. Lance didn’t mind._ _

__“Lance—“_ _

__Lance pressed forward, looking him dead in the face. “No. Keith… _please_.” Keith said nothing more, pulling Lance back into his chest in silence. _ _

__—_ _

__Keith was going to beat someone up._ _

__He didn’t care about the antidote anymore, forcing his anger to become pent-up for Lance’s sake. Lance felt so weak in his arms, and despite Lance’s many protests, Keith carried him out of the mirror room. Lance had yelped when Keith picked him up, mid-way through another objection. Though it sounded close to a squeak, Keith didn’t have the heart to tease him—even jokingly._ _

__“Ke- _Keith!_ ” _ _

__He ignored the violated looks of surprise and horror Lance shot at him, and instead placed his focus on the proctor. Screams and shouts threatened to leave his lungs with each breath, but he pressed himself down as he held Lance up, knowing now wasn’t the time to vent his frustrations._ _

__“If you like,” the Opwaen began, dubious under the death glares Keith was sending them. His anger dwindled a bit when he heard how nervous they were. “I show you to your rooms. You get sleep for tomorrow’s council meeting.” Keith nodded. Thankfully, the Opwaens were familiar with the gesture, and the two were led out of the room and down snaking hallways._ _

__Just like the foyer they had entered, the Opwaens had a knack for making a plain room pop, mixing simplicity with charmingly lavish adornments. It felt elegant yet warm; two that didn’t mix when it came to royal classes and uptight monarchies. It was different and reminded Keith of the Castle of Lions._ _

__Lance had since quieted, reverting to his shell-shocked state. Seeing Lance so uncommunicative made Keith pull him in tighter, guilt soaking deep in his bones as he pressed them together the best he could while walking. This wasn’t right._ _

__He nearly tripped over the Opwaen, not noticing them stop until the very last second. Keith fumbled the tight-lipped boy in his arms, who didn’t budge or freak as he was almost dropped to the ground. The Opwaen didn’t seem to mind.  
“Here, room,” they pointed to two side-by-side doors, not unkindly. If anything they seemed guilty, their head hung in shame. Keith didn’t meet his eyes, passing the creature and watching as one of the doors conveniently slid open for him. He turned and gave the Opwaen one last look before the door slid closed. _ _

__“They only open for you two,” it explained. “You are safe. One of us will knock tomorrow before the meeting. If you need anything—“_ _

__“We won’t,” Keith said. “You can go.” He didn’t think it was possible for those unnatural, beady eyes to show such strong emotion, but the remorse he saw in them at that moment was incogitable._ _

__“But… thanks,” Keith muttered curtly. The Opwaen understood, not taking it personally. They nodded back, the door sliding up in place between them, leaving them alone._ _

__It wasn’t the Opwaen’s fault or Lance’s. They were watching over Lance, and Lance had been the one to volunteer—albeit forcefully—so the responsibility ultimately fell on Keith’s shoulders. He had let his teammate down. He should have gone after him, stopped him._ _

__He looked down at Lance, who had hidden himself in the crook of Keith’s neck. His heart clenched at the sight. Brows furrowed, Keith began to make his way over to what he assumed was the bed. It was a flattened form with pillows and blankets littered meticulously over it, big enough for a dozen people and no assigned headspace in sight. Without a headboard to tell him which way to lie Lance down, he lowered himself and Lance as gently as he could with shaky hands. The mattress dipped with the weight, morphing shape to adjust to the bodies._ _

__Keith wasn’t sure what to do next. He imagined Lance wanted to be by himself; anytime he had gotten homesick, he tended to distance himself from others, usually going someplace empty with a decent view of space. Generally, Lance gravitated around the observatory, so maybe Keith should have taken him someplace with a view of the sky. He glanced up at the door, biting his lower lip in muted irritation. Having sent the proctor away, they had no way to ask for directions. He could always wander around until he found someplace, perhaps a quick walk out of the castle—_ _

__“Stop thinking so much…” Lance muttered into him, his voice muffled. Keith tensed underneath him._ _

__“I-I’m not,” he argued. Keith flinched at how feeble he sounded. “I just…” He wanted to ask what happened, to know what could be bad enough to silence the loudmouthed paladin, but it wasn’t his place. It was none of his business, and it stung that he wasn’t close enough to Lance to know._ _

__“Are you okay?” Lance mumbled, shifting a bit._ _

__“No,” Keith grimaced. “I should be the one asking that.” Lance made an indignant noise, but didn’t argue. _Damn right you don’t._ It wasn’t an argument Lance would be winning. _ _

__“Okay, well,” Keith started. He had overstayed his visit. His hands uncoiled from Lance’s body, slowly and awkwardly retreating. Now all that was left was getting Lance’s lower half off his legs. “Could you, uh… move a bit? I can’t leave if you don’t let me…”_ _

__“Then don’t leave.” Shock trilled down Keith’s spine, and Keith was certain it had been a joke. There was no way Lance was serious, despite his clearly solemn tone. This had to be Lance’s way of lightening the mood._ _

__Keith attempted to shift once again, sighing when he received no leeway. “Lance,” he strived to embrace his inner Shiro and scold, failing as he whispered the name. Lance was the one clinging to him now, his arms wrapped around Keith’s neck. With another sigh, Keith leaned back a tad, pressing his own palms into the mattress behind him as a support._ _

__“Why do you want to leave?” Lance murmured. His lips ghosted over Keith’s neck in a way that made him shiver every time Lance spoke._ _

__“I didn’t—I was trying—“ his words came out rushed and strangled, and Keith blamed the serum for forcing him to speak something he didn’t understand himself. “I don’t know what you want.”_ _

__“I don’t want you to leave.” Lance was a broken record, a tautology that played without end._ _

__“Okay,” he breathed out. A silence followed that the two wallowed in, Lance pressing himself closer and Keith losing himself in each passing second. Lance’s breathing evened out, slowing as he grew heavy in Keith’s lap. He had thought Lance already fell asleep._ _

__Keith almost missed it when Lance whispered. “Why do you hate me?” The five words came out more fragile than glass, and the idea of breaking them horrified Keith beyond reason. Without the serum, Keith would have been too taken aback for words._ _

__“What?” he asked, tilting back to try to get a better view of Lance. He couldn’t answer a question he couldn’t follow. “What’re you talking about?”_ _

__Lance’s arms loosened around Keith’s neck, drawing back lazily and landing on his shoulders. Glazed over blue eyes stared into him, a swirl of explosive irritation and disbelief behind the haze. His grip on Keith tightened, the sudden expanse of pain compelling a gasp from Keith._ _

__“Answer the question!” Lance shouted, his voice raw. He seemed delirious, not entirely grasping him or the situation around him. Keith reckoned the room’s effect hadn’t yet faded. “You _hate_ me, why?” _ _

__Keith regulated himself, refraining from yelling back. “I don’t.”_ _

__He was shoved with rough hands, his back hitting the mattress as Lance pressed him down. Keith’s mouth opened to fight back, his gut somersaulting in a panic as he was straddled, the blue paladin hovering over him._ _

__“You _do_!” shouted Lance. _ _

__“No, Lance!” Keith yelled back, no longer holding himself down. It was useless to with Lance already doing it for him. “You’re the one who decided to hate me! You’re the one who decided to start the rivalry! You’re the one who—“ Something wet hit his cheek, stunning him into silence._ _

___Oh, no._ _ _

__“Fuck, Lance, I didn’t mean to—“ This time, Lance was the one who cut him off. He fell, his face falling onto Keith’s chest. His heart was beating so fast he was sure it was pounding hard enough for Lance to feel it against his chest. It was probably violent enough to bruise Lance’s cheek pressed to him. The reality that Lance could hear his heartbeat only made it soar through the roof._ _

__Growing self-conscious, Keith attempted to reign in his breathing. As his lungs mellowed out, bafflement gurgled up when the sound of wracked, heaving breathing didn’t pan out. It took him a moment longer to realize it wasn’t his breathing that sounded so tender._ _

__“I know,” Lance whimpered, a now exceedingly heavy weight on Keith. “I’m sorry…” His voice cracked, a sad, wet sound. “I’m s-so sorry…” he hiccuped._ _

__He wasn’t lucid. Keith knew that. This must’ve been one of the aftereffects of the trials, leaving Lance in a dazed, muddled shock and unable to deliberate clearly. He would never act like this, especially not with Keith around._ _

__Yet, Keith wanted to discard all his previous memories of Lance, ignore the truths he had heard at dinner, and pretend this was real. Pretend this could be something, for however long it would last._ _

__So he let his fantasies get to the best of him, slinking up to wrap his arms around Lance. He trailed a hand down Lance’s back, trying to be comforting, when he realized they were still in uniform, uncomfortably so. He sighed, instead bringing his hands up to lightly card through soft, brunet hair. It felt like silk running through his fingers, and Keith was secretly grateful for Lance’s intensive self-care routine, even if it was just for this moment._ _

__“I’m sorry too,” he whispered back._ _

__None of it would last. Keith would have to leave soon, and then they would go to the meeting, and even without the antidote the serum, too, would pass. It would all inevitably pass, and Keith would be left alone again, no one or no thing pushing him to be honest with himself._ _

__But for now, he simply cradled the slumbering blue paladin closer._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, feedback is appreciated ~~because i have no idea what i’m doing~~  
>  it’s always fun talking to you guys :)


	7. whoops my fingers slipped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we return, this time with fluff  
> (i’m evening out the angst i swear)
> 
> also, there’s translations at the end of this chap, in case u guys wanted them

Lance didn’t remember falling asleep. 

So when his eyes fluttered open, his shock was no surprise when he came to three realizations. 

One, the room he was in was virtually engulfed in darkness, save for a subdued lamp mounted on the wall across the room. It illuminated the doorway, a strong metal door that was slid shut. Lance sat up, pressing a hesitant hand to his aching forehead. 

Two, he wasn’t wearing his paladin armor. He was sporting the black, spandex under armor, which served as a makeshift pair of pajamas. Scanning the room, not allowing himself to panic, he spotted the rest of his armor strewn in a haphazard manner around the bed. He had been rushing to get to bed. 

_Well that’s not concerning at all._ The lack of memory hit Lance hard, not returning his lost memories but instead bringing his heartbeat to a heavy thump. 

Three, _Oh no, that means…_ Lance paled, bringing his other hand up to his face. He hadn’t gone through his skin care routine. Whatever he had done last night, it was with skin that went without being moisturized, and pores that desperately needed to be appreciated. 

The door opened. Ears adjusted to the silence overnight, Lance flung back, inches from falling off the bed. Keith stood in the doorway, in his red paladin armor and his helmet under his arm. He looked as surprised as Lance did for being there. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Keith stated, mostly to himself. Lance didn’t waste any time.

“What happened?” he asked, bringing himself to stand. He wobbled at first, nearly toppling over, but regained his balance before Keith reached him to help. He could handle _standing._

Keith frowned in a way that scrunched up his face to form an expression Lance found unfairly endearing. “What?” Keith asked back, but was obligated to answer through his confusion. “You… left the trial before it finished… and you were really out of it so I-I walked you here.” He stared at the floor, gaze playing back and forth between the tiles. “What do you remember?” 

“I waved at you, the door closed… and I blacked out after I—“ he cleared his throat, trying to compel the serum to skim over unnecessary details. “After the evaluation, and then I woke up here.”

Keith nodded. Lance was thankful he didn’t press him about what had happened in the room, knowing he could get the answers effortlessly. As the silence eased in, empty memories were filled with the remembrance of their purpose. 

“The meeting,” Lance said. He was already moving to pick up his armor. “You didn’t let me sleep in, right?” Before Keith could respond, he scoffed, adding, “Wait, stupid question. I’m the only one here who cares about beauty sleep—it’s also why I’m the hot one.” 

When Keith wasn’t peeved at the subtle, _hot_ reminder, Lance didn’t take it too hard. What had made him stop was when Keith’s solid stare remained on the floor, not looking up to glare or rush Lance to get dressed faster. 

“Keith?” he asked, losing his teasing tone.

He looked up. “What?” he hummed, blinking. 

“And you said I was the one who was out of it,” Lance chuckled, but it sounded dry. He drew himself up from where he was picking up armor from the floor. He discarded what he had picked up on the bed behind him. “Seriously, are you okay?” 

Keith looked away, tapping his fingers against his outer thigh. Lance recognized the gesture, having countless nervous ticks himself. “Tired,” he replied with a shrug. 

Lance stepped forward and successfully regained Keith’s attention. “Really?” he asked with a raised brow. “Is that it?” 

“No,” Keith answered, unable to hold back. His frown deepened at his own response. 

Lance would be lying if he said he didn’t know. He didn’t want to ignore the heavy panic and guilt that rose impossibly at what he couldn’t remember. He could have done anything last night in that drunken haze—he could have said something he’d regret. Something that would make Keith uncomfortable, just like how he was now. 

But he couldn’t ask. 

Keith had respected Lance’s space, not asking about the trial. Even if Lance had spouted the details last night, there was no way he could have explained the magnitude behind it all in one night. It was impossible. So if Keith wouldn’t ask without Lance’s permission, Lance would do the same. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, taking another step. 

“No,” Keith snapped, then bit his lip. “Yes. I don’t know.”

Lance reached out, his movements slow, before clamping down on Keith’s shoulders. He sent Keith a reassuring smile when sucked in a sharp breath, his dark, surprised eyes meeting Lance’s.

“It’s cool, you don’t have to,” Lance told him. “You’re free to talk to me about it though—only if you want to, of course.” Keith breathed out what sounded like the beginnings of a laugh. Lance wished he had followed through. 

“I don’t hate you,” Keith muttered. 

“What?” 

Keith took in a deep breath before repeating himself, louder this time. “I don’t hate you,” he said, his gaze now so unwavering it made Lance go still. “You can be a major asshole and flirt with the nearest two-legged creature in sight, but I don’t hate you. You’re a sweet guy and care a lot when you strip away that stupid fuckboy façade, so yes, you annoy me, but the last thing I feel for you is hatred.”

Lance stopped breathing. His lungs stopped taking in air, because who needed it when there was this incredible, petulant boy in front of him. His heart slowed before swelling, returning to beat again with absolute strength that was dizzying. Lance couldn’t bring himself to talk, his body responding by dusting his face with red. 

Then Keith smiled.

It was unused and shaky and small; another thing they would need to work on. Yet it sent shivers down Lance’s spine, the lopsided lips that were pressing together coercing him to speak. 

“That façade isn’t the _only_ thing I’ll strip off for you,” Lance husked. He relished in the way Keith’s entire expression dropped with soft shock, a discernible flush brushing his features red. 

“Oh my _god!_ ”

He laughed as Keith threw his helmet, giving Lance barely enough time to dodge. He brought his hands up in surrender, hitting the edge of the bed when Keith advanced on him. 

“The _one_ time I try to be honest with you!” he shouted. Lance was pleased to hear no bite to his bark. “Oh my god,” he repeated, punching Lance in the shoulder. Keith didn’t hold back. “You ass!” 

“Actually,” Lance wheezed. “I seem to recall a certain _hot_ comment that was exceptionally honest.” Keith grew dark red, and Lance snorted. What could he say, the color looked good on him. 

Lance was laughing so hard he hadn’t had time to register the swarm of devious swirling in purple eyes. 

A familiar motion led to Keith’s hand clutching the stretching fabric around his neck. Without lapels like last time, Keith made do with what he had, his free hand sliding down to Lance’s hip as he pressed up against him. Lance choked into silence. 

“Actually,” Keith parroted, breathy and low. “I had so much more to say, but I wanted to wait until we were alone…” Lance’s stomach was doing flips, the recall of the dinner flooding back and transferring Keith’s blush to Lance’s hot cheeks. It didn’t help that Keith’s thumb was gliding ever so slightly across his hipbone. 

_Where the hell does he get this kind of confidence?_

Lance wanted to taunt him, dare him to take a step forward, but he didn’t know where to go next. He was already pushed to the edge, and if Keith pushed any further he was sure to fall over. 

That didn’t stop Keith. 

He continued to lean in without Lance provoking him. The hand on his neck slid down, stopping at his chest, before shoving him down. Lance wanted to react as he was pushed down, but he couldn’t think with those eyes on him. A fire had enlightened within them and all Lance was able to do was stare. 

“What—“ Lance halted himself before his voice failed him. “What are you doing?” he tried again. 

Keith bent over him, retracting a hand to reach over for something over Lance’s head. Before Lance could speculate, let alone ask, what the object was, his entire field of view was stolen from him. He involuntarily jerked as the soft pillow made contact with his face, pressure holding it down and taking his breath away.

“Leaving.” He heard Keith say. The pressure suddenly retreated, leaving his throat scrambling for air. “We have a conference, remember?” 

“Regrettably,” Lance rasped, sitting up. 

“Good, finish getting ready and we’ll go.” Lance couldn’t say for sure, but there was a lilt to his voice that hinted Keith wasn’t feeling as confident as before. 

—

The meeting room was much larger than any room they had been to yet. It had been filled with a single pristine marble long table that reached one end of the room to the other. Dozens of Opwaen spanned across the room; the ones who didn’t have seats at the table sat on the chairs pressed to the walls. 

Uncertainty settled in Keith’s gut when he realized he would have to speak in front of all of them. 

Lance, as always, had no qualms stepping forward. He pulled out one of the two empty seats, then looked back to Keith, bowing dramatically. Keith brushed off his own embarrassment, rolling his eyes and plopping down in the seat. He could have pulled his own out, but it felt improper to make a scene in front of so many people. 

Lance promptly sat down beside him, and the scattered chatter silenced. 

“Welcome, paladins,” Queen Peri spoke, dolled up in regal wear unlike the day before. “We have come to a decision regarding the terms of your alliance.” 

Keith’s eyes wandered the table, familiar with just Peri and their proctor surrounded by a sea of unrecognizable faces. He was amazed at how quiet a table with so many voices could stay quiet for this long. Back at the castle, Allura couldn’t get them to shut up at the dinner table. It was a miracle in his eyes. 

“We do not accept.” 

Keith’s attention snapped to the queen. “Excuse me?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

She smiled at the two of them, a look more of pity than of sympathy. It made Keith’s insides curl. “We cannot form an alliance with weak-minded creatures like yourselves. Specifically the blue one—since we haven’t seen what you can do,” she nodded to Keith. “But we do not expect much from what we’ve seen.” 

The brutality of her words sent him reeling. “What did you just call us?” 

“Weak,” she repeated, the same infuriating smile on her face. “The blue one should have faced his truths.” Lance was still beside him. “It’s a simple task, really, and anyone who cannot handle it is not worthy of an alliance with us.” 

Keith was not one to keep calm, so the familiar explosion of heated anger, turning his blood to lava and utilizing tense muscle to form tight fists. His hands remained under the table, but he held his head up. He had seen Lance last night, quivering in his arms in a way that surpassed a nightmare-ridden child. This was the nightmare, and it was an unmitigated storm of bull. 

“What the _fuck_?” Keith laughed out, void of humour. “What do you mean?” 

The Queen tilted her head. He hadn’t expected them to familiarize themselves with slang or curses, yet their ignorance still managed to crawl under his skin. “Do you not understand? As we said, the blue one is weak. We cannot accept him.”

How could these words leave her lips unflinchingly in front of Lance, as if they meant nothing. As if he meant nothing. 

“How _dare_ you,” Keith hissed. Gasps filled the corners of the conference, encouraging him to go on. “ _You_ were the ones who tortured him—you have no fucking _inkling_ of half the shit we go through. You’ve never felt the pain of not being able to see or even have a family, friends, a place to call home. We can’t go to Earth because we have a mission—instead of being with the people we love we’re stuck here, on your fucking shit ass planet dealing with your ignorance.” 

Lance inhaled a sharp breath beside him. A hand went to his shoulder. “Keith, stop…” An aura of defeat permeated his voice where there should have been none. “We need to be on their good side…” 

Keith didn’t hold back, shaking off the hand. He brought his own hands up, slamming them down on the table as his chair screeched back. Glaring down on Peri from where he stood, he breathed hard, noting how lucky she was that looks couldn’t kill.

_Fuck the alliance._

“You’re so fucking lucky you guys come from a place where truth is valued—and you’re not grateful in the slightest. If we’re honest where we’re from, we’re laughed at and ridiculed. You don’t survive if you’re honest, and you’re calling him _weak_ for doing what none of you can bring yourself to do on your own?”

_Fuck these people._

“Every day we fight, terrified that our home, our universe, is going to be destroyed unless we step up and stop it. We work every day to become stronger, barely sleeping so we can make time to train and learn more about the enemy,” he took in a sharp breath as no one stopped him. He could only see red.

_Fuck the antidote._

“He,” Keith pointed to Lance without needing to look. “Doesn’t just train with us, growing as a fighter and as a person faster than I ever have—than I’ve ever seen. He’s always there for us, checking in and comforting us even when we pretend we’re fine.” 

Keith’s next laugh was shaky and uneven, but he wasn’t done yet. “And you don’t even call him by his name—it’s Lance. His name is _Lance._ ” He glared at the Queen. “If anyone deserves a title, it’s him.” 

_I’m done with all of this._

“If you don’t understand us—the true fear we face constantly for us and for strangers like you—then we don’t want you either,” Keith spat. 

He had never seen eyes bulge so much before, and he doubted he ever would again, so he drank in the sight of the entire room staring with wide, beady eyes. His eyes landed on the proctor as he was about to turn away, narrowing immediately. 

They had told Peri about what they had seen. 

Keith knew the Opwaen wouldn’t understand, but Lance would, and that’s what mattered. He lifted a sole finger as he turned his back, leaving the room without another glance. 

The halls were no longer warm and welcoming, the floors cold, crystalline warnings of the hamster tube traps he was walking down. His anger still surged through him, the outcome of the disturbed rest of an internalized volcanic eruption. 

He didn’t know where he was going, leaving him to pray his feet knew where the exit was. The sooner he could get to Red and get off this planet the better. The alliance was screwed, and Lance had Blue when he wanted to join him, so there was no point in staying. 

It didn’t take long for him to be found. 

“W-wait! Re—Human! Person!” Recognizing the voice, Keith grimaced, turning to send a level glare at the proctor. 

“What do you want?” he growled. 

“You must understand… please,” they urged. “Allow me to explain myself—“

“Don’t bother,” Keith rolled his eyes. He was already walking away. A suppressed groan rose at the sound of the small patter of footsteps behind him. 

“I never seen such harsh truths!” it yelled. “I—Opwaens have simple lives. We not fight or hurt ourselves because we candid, we not fight in years to see loss—so the trial is easy for us. But it’s individualized, I not know how bad it was for humans. So when I told Queen that Blu—Lance—could not handle the trial, she misunderstood.” 

The floor beneath Keith was dented, his boots scuffing the spot. “I did, she just—none of us know. We not know sadness and pain like you. On our behalf accept this offering, for I am sorry we not understand.” 

Keith frowned, facing the small Opwaen. It had a pudgy hand outstretched, greyish and tan skin mixed underneath a small glass vial. A bizarre, silver liquid filled a third of the container, reflecting the kingdom’s artificial light. 

“What’re you giving me?” 

They took a dubious step forward and Keith rose a brow. “You want. It for the serum.” Its hands shook, making Keith worried it would drop. “The antidote,” it clarified. 

Keith narrowed his eyes once more, more than willing to doubt their sincerity. “Or poison,” he tacked on thoughtfully. They had the audacity to look hurt. 

“We not lie, even if we misunderstand.” Its hand moved closer, pleading. “Please forgive our ignorance… I will go to explain to them further, after I give you this.” 

Keith paused, then sighed, accepting it and eyeing the vial. “So how much am I supposed to give each person?” he asked, swirling the liquid. 

“Each person?” They frowned, proceeding to shake their helmeted head that took the empty place its hair was supposed to take. “Only one. I not can get more,” they made a noise that sounded like a cheese grater clearing its throat. 

Reclaiming their collectedness, they tried again. “I cannot get more than that until I speak with our Queen, but even then…” Keith looked up at from the vial, the fluctuation of their voice causing their gazes to meet. “I only understand what I see, and I believe my kin are the same.” 

Keith looked away, guilt tugging at his bones and dragging him down. “Thank you for trying.” 

—

Lance was still sitting when Keith walked out, chained to his chair. 

All eyes were on him now with Keith gone, including the Queen’s. A sole blue gaze stayed fixated on the spot Keith had stood, the background of gawking, scandalised Opwaen a blurred haze in his field of view. It was like staring up from underwater, a lens of tears misting over his sight. He blinked it away. 

“Lance.” 

The Queen had called him by his name over the hisses and muttering. His name had been spoken as a request. Lance obliged, albeit slowly, looking over to meet her rounded eyes. They were different from the other Opwaens’ eyes. Where they shared oversized ink marbles, the Queen’s were scintillating black buttons, with four matching white dots in each eye. 

“My assistant informed me of your trial.” 

Lance’s muscles tightened, back straightening like a board as his entire body stiffened. After his earlier conversation with Keith, he had thought he could leave those memories behind him, just like the ones he had lost on his way to his room. 

“That right?” he huffed, not having the composure to force a laugh. Lance thought he heard a curse thrown across the room, in a Opwaen’s native tongue. He didn’t care. 

He didn’t understand why he was still here. Keith had gone; he should have run after him in the first place, not freeze, staring in his own pool of shock. Keith had helped him when he needed it, without questioning him, and Lance hadn’t done the same. 

“Enlighten me,” she went on. “What could be so terrifying that you would be the first one to give up our trials, if you aren’t weak?” 

Lance sucked in a quivering breath, this time laughing weakly as he was obligated to respond. “ _Everything_.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Everything?” 

“How am I supposed to explain something that you can’t even begin to understand?” he huffed. “I’d be willing to bet none of you every had to worry about your friends both here and far or family or your home or a—“ his voice cracked, but it didn’t save him from his admission. “A _stupid_ crush.” 

“So? What is there to worry?” Lance couldn’t get what there was to not understand. For once he understood why Keith could get so angry over the littlest thing. 

“I _already said_ ,” he muttered, exasperated. “Everything. That my family is on an endless search, probably expecting the worst—that, that my friends find me utterly useless, more than I find myself—that my home and the entire universe is going to be destroyed because I’m too _weak_ … too weak to even ask a question that I know I’ll get the answer to. I’m _scared_ because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Lance was breathing hard, his chest shaking with each breath that filled the silence of the room on its own. He was ready to stand, to find Keith and leave this god-forsaken planet when Peri spoke up once more. 

“You admit you’re weak? Even after all your friend did to convince us otherwise?” Lance lowered his head, tempted to laugh. So he did. _Of course that’s all she got from that_.

“At least I have the balls to fight, despite being _weaker_ than any Opwaen you’ve seen,” he scoffed. He didn’t care about that, he would keep trudging on, doing whatever he could for the people he cared for. Even Keith. 

_Especially Keith_.

She didn’t respond for a long time, long enough for the whispers to start up again. This time, they weren’t hateful hisses, but thoughtful sounds, ones that made Lance more worried than comforted. He expected the same sour looks Keith had gotten when he had yelled, abandoning the conference altogether. Not this.

“That was very honest of you, Lance.” 

—

It took longer than expected to find Red without a guide’s help. Once he did, he faced yet another surprise. 

“Lance?” he asked, his voice echoing in the docking chamber. The boy was leaning against Red’s protective field. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Looking for you,” Lance answered, pushing off from the invisible barrier. To his disbelief, Lance smiled. “I would’ve waited in Red but she hasn’t led down her defenses since we got here. And to be honest, I don’t blame her.” 

“What happened back at the meeting?” Keith asked. “And why’re you smiling?”

“We got the alliance,” he explained with a grin.

“Wh… how the…” Keith’s brows furrowed in suspicion, giving Lance time to take back what he said. He didn’t. “What did you do?” 

“I was honest,” he answered plainly, shrugging. 

Keith wanted to push the subject, his curiosity almost tipping him over, but he knew Lance was being vague for a reason. If he didn’t want to, Keith wouldn’t push him. He knew how it felt to be forced speak, whether accidentally when none of the paladins really caught themselves or moments that really, really ruined him: like when Pidge had exposed him in front of Lance. 

They still hadn’t talked about it. 

He promised himself he would get around to it once they got back. 

“Well, uh,” Lance spoke up, snapping Keith from his daze. “I also wanted to thank you.”

Keith frowned. “What for?” 

“For what you said back at the conference,” he explained. “It really meant a lot.” 

Keith didn’t respond. He didn’t understand why Lance always thanked him for telling the truth. Whether it was that time in Blue or with the Opwaen conference, he had just been honest and spoken his mind. Where it mattered more was when Keith let something humiliating slip; defending Lance for the good person he was wasn’t a big deal at all. 

“Ah, and… you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but… they had a ball thingamajig planned tonight and invited us to come since we’re part of the alliance now, so, you know, if you feel like it, we could, uhm…” 

“A ball thingamajig,” he echoed. Keith snorted despite his smile. “Is this how you ask out all those alien girls you meet? No wonder you’re single,” he teased. 

“No…” Lance answered, pouting. Keith watched Lance visibly struggle with words—a sight he had never before been blessed enough to see. “You know if you didn’t want to come you could have just said—“

“I’d very much enjoy going to a ball thingamajig with you, Lance.” The blue paladin met his gaze, surprised. 

“Oh,” he said, then smiled. “Okay.”

—

The ball started late in the afternoon, shrouding the outside in deep oranges and pinks. Two sons, the colors of freshly mowed grass and dark sea green, plummeted into the horizon in slow, deliberate falls.

Outside purple sand with orange and yellow glowing flecks lay under their feet, similar to the structure of sand back home but much more stable. Lance had reckoned he could make much better sand castles here than Varadero Beach. 

There was a widespread of round tables and chairs all encompassing an immense, inner circle of dark marble tile. Peri explained it served as a dance circlet, giggling when Keith had pointed at the huge, white irregularities in the marble that scattered and stained the otherwise pure black floor. 

“For special occasions,” she said with a devious smile. 

“Which are?” Keith prompted. 

The Queen shrugged. “The floor decides,” she explained, equally as vague. “Now, you are free to do what you may. I will be busy talking to other visitors, so I will not be able to say goodbye. Though, I would like to wish you luck on your journey.” 

Peri halted, turning to face the paladins. “I did not think you humans were very impressive when we first met,” she admitted. “ _But,_ you have proven me wrong. I almost wanted to believe you had manipulated our proctor, as he is never so sympathetic.” 

She bowed. “I now have much respect for humankind. Thank you for protecting our galaxy,” she told them, sending one more genuine smile before walking off into the crowd. 

The ball had already begun when they arrived, dozens on dozens of Opwaen citizens singing and laughing and dancing on the floor. Their voices were the music; Keith was shocked at how melodious they could sound. Opwaens weren’t the only kind there. Both aliens familiar and not interacted with them, all relatively cheerful. Others were at what he assumed to be a bar, drinking and talking between one another. 

“Oh my god, _Keith_ ,” Lance gasped. “Do you know what this means?” 

“No?” he frowned in question, tilting his head to the side. 

“We’re alone,” he answered, searching Keith’s blank gaze for a realization Keith wasn’t grasping. “With no rules…” he went on. “With alcohol…” Lance’s gaze kept flickering over to the mini bar across Keith’s shoulder. 

When it clicked, Keith groaned. “ _No,_ Lance—“

“¿Puedo ofrecerte una copa?” he asked, amused. Keith gave him a flat look. “I’ll take that as a yes then. Awesome, be right back.” Before he could argue, Lance was lost to the crowd. 

He looked to the bar, and a plan formulated in his mind. Absently, his hand went to where he had hidden the vial in his suit, brushing over the fogged glass. This way, he could do it without Lance knowing. 

Keith was drawn back to the floor, scanning past the dancers’ feet to watch the white, almost transparent flecks. They almost looked like small gemstones, maybe glass, had been poured in the liquid marble before solidifying. 

Every once in a while, there would be one who stepped across a patch, and they would shimmer. He became entranced by the small doses of light, craving more like an addict. Edging towards the circle, only halting when he heard his name called from right behind him. 

“Keith?” 

He twisted around, snapped from his trance, shooting out to attack on instinct. Lance faltered back. “ _Jesus,_ Keith!” he let out. He raised both hands filled with glasses above his head, out of Keith’s reach. He smacked Lance in the chest, in front of where one of the drinks was previously held. 

“This is not how I imagined you hitting on me,” he joked, bringing down a drink and holding it out. Keith took it, looking at the sparkling, tie-dye liquid. 

He ignored Lance’s comment. “What is this stuff?” he asked. 

“No idea,” he said, and stepped to the edge of the outdoor ballroom floor beside Keith. “They call it belnur. The bartender was kind of a dick, and wouldn’t serve me actual alcohol because we’re underage. Apparently they have that law here too—except for them the age is thirty-three.” 

“Good,” Keith replied. “I can barely handle the normal you, I can’t imagine what drunk you is like.” 

Lance took a daring sip of the drink, humming. Keith’s eyes watched the liquid, wondering when he could act on his plan.

“You like to dance?” 

“What?” Keith asked. “No, why?” 

“You were staring at the dance floor.” Keith noticed how Lance didn’t ask, carefully forming his words into a statement. It was a request. Lance wasn’t forcing him to talk about it. As the days passed, Keith noticed the two of them were getting better at wording. 

“Do you know how to dance?” Lance questioned. 

“No,” he answered, immediately cursing himself. Just another thing for Lance to hold over his head to tease him with. 

As expected, Lance faced him, gaping. “Oh, no, Keith.” He looked around, gaze finally landing on a nearby, empty table. “No no no, I cannot have this.” Lance plucked the drink from Keith’s hand, then went over to place down the remainder of his drink. 

He looked so concerned Keith couldn’t help but laugh. “No laughing!” Lance scolded, grabbing Keith’s hand and dragging him to the floor. “I seriously don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’ve seen how you fight, it’s-it’s—“

The two faltered on the edge of the marble. Keith grinned. “Wow, is Lance McClain about to _compliment_ me?” he asked. 

“Oh, shut up, Kogane,” he muttered, reluctant to answer. Knowing he was obligated to respond, Lance forced himself to speak quietly. Even if Keith could hear him, each murmur sounded like his native tongue. 

_Of course._ He wanted to groan. He could never win anymore.

Lance took the first step forward, and as his feet made contact with the marble, the surrounding white flecks began to glow a brilliant midnight blue. He noticed the same time Keith did, their gazes locking in wide-eyed awe. 

“ _Whoa_ ,” Lance’s breath caught. “You try.” 

Keith didn’t get a chance to argue. He was tugged forward, risking falling into Lance’s chest if he didn’t step forward. 

He wasn’t willing to embarrass himself any more than he already had. 

Keith moved. Vibrant scarlet spread out underneath him, glowing with passion. With each step, the red followed him across the dance floor. 

“Why do you think it works for us and not the others?” Keith asked, motioning to the others around them. 

“No idea,” Lance shrugged, tugging on Keith’s hand again. Taken off guard, he stumbled closer to Lance, coming chest to chest. His throat went dry. He had been so distracted by the lights he somehow failed to notice how close they had gotten. 

“Okay, since you have no idea what you’re doing,” Lance began with a smug smile. “Follow my lead.” 

Fingers wrapped around his wrists, bringing them up to rest along Lance’s shoulders. Keith tensed, heat rushing to his face when Lance chuckled at his speechlessness. 

“Relax,” Lance said, dropping his hands to Keith’s waist. Keith held his breath. “The girl always puts her arms on the guy’s shoulder—or, in this case, the shorter one.” 

Keith pulled away a hand to smack Lance with it, but returned it to its place nevertheless. “Ass,” he huffed. “You barely have an inch on me.” 

Lance leaned, smirking as he whispered. “That’s not the only place I’ve got more than an inch on you,” he said. His words sent trills down his spine. 

“ _Lance_!” 

Keith pulled back again with both hands this time, hitting him square in the chest. Lance was laughing. Each gleeful exhale bonded with soft chuckles that left those lips were more beautiful than any Opwaen singing or little cracks of light in the floor. 

“Now that you’re not acting like your bayard was shoved up your ass,” Lance smiled again, stepping back into Keith’s bubble. “We can actually start dancing.” 

As much as he wanted to deny it, Lance was right. Keith would have further spiraled into a nervous wreck if Lance hadn’t tried to lighten the mood. He managed to make any situation less awkward, and was one of the few people that could make Keith actually relax when he wasn’t trying to piss him off. 

“Whatever.” Keith was smiling despite himself. 

Then Lance’s body started to sway, moving with the music as he crooned with it. As Lance grew to taking steps, spinning himself and Keith around slowly, Keith felt himself swoon from gentle hands. How was he expected to dance when he could hardly stand straight? 

“Keith,” Lance tutted. “The whole point of dancing is to _move your body_.” 

The hands gently hovering about Keith’s waist took hold, thumbs pressing into his hips and making them move so that Keith would gasp. 

“Lance, this is not dancing.” 

“Like you would know,” Lance teased, trying to ease him into a sway. “And it’s not, not _yet_ anyway.” 

As Lance continued to coax Keith into building up to dancing, his humming grew. Maybe it only became louder to his ears, but everything else became muted under the sound. He wished Lance would sing, so he could hear even more, enjoy even more of his voice. 

_Control yourself,_ he was reminded. _You already know how this ends._

Not willing to let facts damper the mood, he compelled himself to enjoy what he could now. He let his hands slide across Lance’s collarbone, his forearms stopping to lie there and his hands hanging limply behind him. Their faces were inches away. For once, Keith didn’t mind the close proximity, because this time he had the brains to acknowledge it meant nothing.

At least, that’s what it meant to Lance. 

Maybe it was selfish to enjoy this rather than put himself down, to lock away the smiles and warmth that tugged and tore at him like a hook lodged in his gut every time Lance was around. Maybe he was horrible for feeling, for letting Lance have this hold on him, but he couldn’t help it.

“So are we just going to sway the entire time or are we actually going to dance?” Keith asked. 

He wondered if people were staring at the two, smiling teens, oblivious to the loud colors of the world around them. He then decided he didn’t care. 

The suns had finished setting. Keith had expected the outdoor ball to be entrenched in darkness without lamps or a visible source or electricity. Then he realized the Opwaen didn’t need it. 

The flecks from the sand began to glow, beaming than the growing purple light underneath the paladins. Rather than give an eerie under glow, it illuminated the people and the ball with a new light, one that spoke of the light of the night. 

“I mean, swaying _could_ be considered a kind of dancing, but since you asked so nicely…” Lance took one of Keith’s wrists and lifted it above his head, spinning him. 

He had panicked at first, going rigid before once again reminding himself to relax. Keith hadn’t caught himself, and had been spun directly into Lance’s arms. 

Without rushing to pull away, Keith asked, “Are you sure you know how to dance? Or maybe you managed to get drunk by a nonalcoholic beverage. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

When Lance replied, Keith felt his whisper tickle his ear. “No estoy borracho, sólo intoxicado por ti.” 

Keith rolled his eyes on reflex, taking a proper step back. Despite his faux calm his heart was beating too fast to go unheard. “Are you going to do this every time you don’t want to answer a question?” he raised a brow in question. 

Tan arms returned to Keith’s waist, and this time he was able to withhold another gasp. He was once again spun around, this time stopping face to face with Lance. A wicked grin was plastered across Lance’s face. 

“Maybe not.” Lance’s hand glided from hips to his back, pressing his fingers into the dip of Keith’s lower spine, pushing Keith flush against him. Blue eyes flickered down in a flash. Keith had thought it was a trick of the eye, the night playing a painful joke on him. 

Lance leaned, slow. “But,” he spoke softly, like he was speaking a dangerous secret. “The fun part is I could tell you anything… and you’d have no idea what I’m saying.”

“Oh?” His voice came out husky, but he couldn’t help it when he could hardly breathe. “Like what?” 

This time, Keith couldn’t convince himself he was imagining the way blue eyes dipped, lingering longer than any accident. When their gazes locked, Keith didn’t just lose his breath—it was knocked out of him.

“Like estoy ena—“

“Pardon me, are you the blue paladin?” 

The atmosphere cracked, the two jumping away from each other as it unfurled around them. Keith had flown back so far he crashed into a couple that made surprised hissing noises. He whirled around, turning to violently apologize to the duo. With a deep bow and spluttered apologies, the disgruntled two seemed to accept it and move on. 

By the time he had turned back, Lance had already delved deep into a conversation with one of the Opwaens. He was smiling pleasantly, as if the previous situation hadn’t occurred. 

_Maybe that’s what he wants._

Keith paused, watching in thought. What was he talking about? He had gone over this; of course that’s what Lance wanted. It was all in good fun for him, like he was some girl Lance had met in passing, occasionally flirting just because he could. Keith smiled. 

That was okay, because this was better than what was coming. 

Because soon, the serum would wear off and they’d go back to the usual banter and bickering. 

And because then he’d be left alone. 

So just the memory of this would be enough. 

He reached out and gingerly tapped on Lance’s shoulder, forcing a small smile. “I’m going to get our drinks, yeah?” 

Lance nodded quickly, intending to return to his original conversation as soon as possible. “All right.” Keith understood. He didn’t want Lance’s attention on him for what he was about to do. 

Once Lance faced the other direction, Keith backtracked to the table they had placed their glasses on. Picking up Lance’s cup with less belnur, and bringing out the vial the proctor had given him. This way, no one would fight over who gets the only dose, and Lance wouldn’t need to know. 

He emptied the antidote, watching it fizzle and disappear in the drink.

Keith could have taken it himself, but refused. It would make everything easier—so much easier, but if he took it himself, he would still have a chance. A chance to ask Lance how he really felt.

But it wasn’t a question he wanted to hear the answer to. 

—

Lance wasn’t sure he was grateful or furious he had been interrupted. Regardless, he was still in shock about what he had almost let slip out. And what he was about to _do_. 

The conversation was a godsend Lance was more than happy to accept. 

So when Keith tapped his shoulder, and even when he returned him his drink, he tried to keep the looks to a minimum. He didn’t want to see Keith or his reaction for longer than he had to. Lance hadn’t been exactly subtle.

It was only once the Opwaen had pointed something out, forcing him to draw his attention to Keith. Or rather, something Keith had done. 

“Are you going to drink that?” they asked. Lance frowned.

Throughout their short-lived conversation, the native’s tone had been nothing but kind. But the moment something Keith touched got involved, their attitude took a sharp swerve. They had the nerve to sound… offended?

“Yes,” he answered. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“What your friend just gave you—“ they made a clear expression of disgust. If this Opwaen didn’t explain fast, Lance was sure to say something he’d regret. “—it, it doesn’t just make you tell the truth, like what you’re familiar with. It makes you confess withheld feelings?”

“I—“ Lance’s voice strained. “I’m sorry?” 

“Well,” they went on, too relaxed for the words they spoke. “They can range from expressions of love to whether or not you hate pineapples on pizza.” Lance would have loved another moment to take that in, reviewing the possibilities and logistics of aliens being familiar with human culture. 

But now wasn’t the time. 

His taut grasp around the poisoned cup cracked the foot of glass, though Lance didn’t need to know that to know he was _pissed_. Disbelief had triumphed at first, as there was no way Keith would have done that. 

But then again, he could be wrong. Lately, all Keith seemed to do was surprise him, talking back in ways Lance had never heard, or acting on impulses that didn’t involve fists. As the thought started to soak in, the native’s word seemed like more truth than anything he’d heard in the past few days. 

Of all the questions plaguing the swirling mess of his mind, the question that repeated itself the most was _why_? Why this, specifically? 

Seething, he didn’t bother excusing himself from the conversation. He didn’t care. His eyes scrutinized the party under the night sky. There were dozens of figures, none of which were the one he was searching for. 

The guests parted suddenly, making room for their Queen, letting Lance’s eyes land on the familiar mullet. The red paladin had the audacity to be laughing. In conversation with Peri, his eyes crinkled shut from such amusement Lance could only wish to impart. The usual sensation of overwhelming tingling didn’t come from the sight, and the realization made Lance’s stomach tighten at the lack of warmth. 

His feet were moving. He was storming up to the laughing boy, his eyes narrowed as he found his fist balled into Keith’s collar. Then he was dragging him away—away from all the Opwaen natives and guests and ball thingamajig. 

“Lance! _Lance_!” he was shouting. “What’s wrong?”

Letting go with a rough shove, Lance put a good bit of distance between them. Proceeding to throw the drink on the ground in front of him, he crossed his arms, hoping Keith would see it despite the darkness. 

“How _could_ you?” he snorted with as much malice he could muster. “I actually thought—I… I—“

“What?” Keith was frowning, that much he could see. “Lance, what’re you talking about?” Lance pointed to the sand stained with tie-dye mixture seeping slowly between the violet grains. 

He had been completely betrayed; didn’t Keith get it? Lance paused his train of thought, stopping his mind from throwing more coal into the fire. No, Keith didn’t get it. Their situations weren’t the same. He had been an idiot to let himself think beyond what Keith had said. Over and over again, the words Lance described Keith with hadn’t been used by Keith at all. 

_Hot._

That was it. During that game of truth and day, during the dinner—any time he had depicted Lance, that was the sole word he could remember Keith using. 

Keith was using a pouting technique now. One that no one seemed to notice beside Lance, and did he notice it. Even now he had to look away, feeling his anger dissipating with displeasing ease. 

“I thought you’d… appreciate it?” 

Lance couldn’t believed what he was hearing. Who in the right mind would believe a forced confession was good—let alone _okay_? And why would he even do this? He could have just asked. But this—this made him want to curl in on himself and tear his hair out. 

His gaze snapped back up to hammer itself into Keith. “That I’d _appreciate_ it?” he shrieked. “What the _fuck_ , Keith, you _selfish, arrogant, prick!_ I can’t believe I ever stopped hating you!” 

He didn’t pause or stay. He couldn’t. The moment there was even a slight change of Keith’s expression, Lance had shouldered past him and was gone. 

—

Keith had known. 

Keith, who had already heard from Lance at the dining table that he wasn’t interested. Keith, who knew Lance started the rivalry because they didn’t get along—to justify his animosity. But now, Keith couldn’t make excuses. He couldn’t ignore the truth. Keith was one hundred percent sure now. 

Lance hated him.

That would never change, regardless of how hard he tried, how much he cared—even when he was trying to help. 

The worst part was, Keith had a chance. 

Lance himself had said he had stopped hating him for a while there in a moment of weakness. Then Keith had to go and fuck it all up. 

He decided then it was a good time to leave. Lance didn’t need him here, and the alliance was made. So he backtracked into and through the castle, passing everyone, including the Queen without a single goodbye. She had said she was too busy anyway. 

This time he knew when he went to Red, he wouldn’t find the blue paladin there, resting against her force field. 

—

Lance didn’t know where he was going, but he was stomping his way there. 

He finds himself back at the two rooms they had been given. Or at least, he was in the hallway where their rooms where, because before he could reach their doors, he bumped into a familiar face. 

“What the hell do you want?” he growled, staring down the proctor. 

They hesitated to touch him, reaching out but faltering then dropping a seven-fingered hand. “Why mad?” they questioned, sounding confused. Lance didn’t blame them. “Didn’t Keith give? I assume he gave you, because he care.” 

“I—wow,” Lance scoffed, nearly laughing as he shook his head. “He cares?” Now he’s laughing, a bitter sound unlike the one he made back at the ball—with hands on hips and relaxed swaying. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at his roots to distract himself with the pain. 

“That dude fucking hates me,” Lance goes on. “He tried—he tried to get me to _confess_.” 

His explanation furthered the proctor’s perplexity. “No? None of potions do. That.” It was Lance’s turn to be fazed by shock. “Where did you hear that?” 

Lance had broken from his blind rage completely, enveloped with questions. “One of your people at the ball told me…” 

The proctor shook its head, huffing and puffing more than Shiro when he being a disapproving parent. “They many dislike you,” they said. “You two stand strong, stronger than them. They not understand. They jealous because Queen respects you.” 

Lance came to understand slowly, squeaking, “Wait so… Keith was trying to… give me the only dose? So I’d be the one without the serum’s effects while everyone else had to wait for it to wear off?” The proctor nodded, impassioned. 

He couldn’t imagine how that situation could have ended, if he had never figured it out. But now, he didn’t have to. He had fucked up in a way he could fix. 

“Oh… _fuck_!” he cursed. “I’m sorry thank you so much I gotta go bye!” He found the time to hug the proctor in his rant, then ran. 

First he scoured the ballroom, hoping to find a moping mullet in one of the corners by the dance floor, staring wistfully at the colors. He called out after him, despite all the sour looks he receives from the majority of the Opwaen. Lance cursed one of them out as he rushed past for hissing as he yelled Keith’s name. 

“Okay,” he mumbled to himself. “Maybe if I use… _Blue_!” 

Lance was beginning to recognize the halls with practiced ease, finding his lion much faster than he thought was possible. The thought came to him that maybe Blue was calling out to him instead of Red this time around, and that would mean Keith had gotten himself in trouble. He couldn’t entertain the thought. 

It would be Lance’s fault.

There was both a good and a bad to finding her. Though Blue had prepared, prime and ready to go, it seemed Red was already a jump, step, and a leap ahead of him, because Red was gone. That meant so was Keith. 

He panicked. Keith either ran, or went back to the Castle of Lions. Either way, Lance promised, he would make up for it. He would apologize for trusting some random alien over Keith. 

_What was I thinking?_

Lance groaned, rushing to stop wasting time and get to Blue. Her presence purred against his mind, attempting to consolidate him as he gripped the controls without mercy. It only made his blood flare. 

If Keith had gone back to the castle, it at least made his job finding him easier, but if Keith ran, he would need to get the others involved to find him. Then he would have to _explain_ everything. Lance was sure it would only worsen their overall situation. 

He hoped it didn’t come to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you really think i wouldn’t give you more problematic content?  
> honestly these boys are gonna be the death of me  
> but there will be more fluff too tho, i promise…
> 
> also, here’s the translations:  
> “¿Puedo ofrecerte una copa?” = “Can I offer you a drink?”  
> “No estoy borracho, sólo intoxicado por ti.” = “I’m not drunk, just intoxicated by you.” 
> 
> but seriously, thanks for reading, loves :)


	8. burned out apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many sorry’s this chapter  
> also, for those of u interested, feel free to talk to me in the comments at the end of this chapter, i love talking to you guys :)  
> but besides that, carry on!

When Keith got back to the castle, the first thing he saw when he exited Red was a perplexed princess. Allura stood with a downward slant to her lips, Coran by her side sharing a similar look. He wondered how much they knew; if Lance had told them anything. 

He knew none of them were listening over the comms unless either Lance or himself specifically called them in. If he was lucky, Lance hadn’t cared enough to do so, and from what Keith had seen in the passing hour, he was definitely ‘lucky.’ 

He didn’t want them to ask for details. There would be no way of denying the facts, and just the idea of explaining his attempt to give Lance the only dose of the antidote, resulting in Lance hating him all over again _and_ wasting the cure pained him. They would not be happy.

“Where’s Lance?” the princess asked, more curious than intimidating. 

Keith looked down to where he was absently playing with his helmet in his hands. He was going to tell the truth, that was a given, but no one was stopping him from keeping out a few key parts. “Still at the ball.”

As Allura’s brows furrowed, Keith went on. “We got the alliance,” he explained. “It was a little rough but we—well, Lance, really—proved we were a powerful ally and that we just want to protect the galaxy. Then they invited us to this party to celebrate.” With one final pause, he added, “It’s not really my thing, so I came back here. Lance stayed.” 

The two Alteans nodded, Coran stroking his chin unnecessarily in the process. Keith wondered if he had gotten it from Lance, vice versa, or if the two were made for each other. With recent events in mind, he doubted he was qualified to say the latter in any scenario, however trivial. 

“So you boys are all right?” Coran questioned. 

Keith shrunk as the answer forced down on him. “No,” he said, though quick to add. “B-but that’s just because we had a little disagreement about something. We’ll figure it out. It’s honestly no big deal.” 

It really wasn’t a big deal. 

It didn’t matter. 

It was fine. 

Before either of them could attest, Keith cleared his throat loudly, interrupting what sounded like the beginning of another question from Allura. “Anyway, we did what you wanted: we formed the alliance,” he said, starting to walk past them. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Pidge.” He was thankful neither of them chased after him to interrogate him further. 

Leaving the room, he got out of his suit and went straight down the hall to where Pidge’s room was. She tended to use it more in the day than the night, as she usually fell asleep in one of the other rooms with a gadget in her lap and her back pressed against a pillar or wall. She would use her room when she wanted privacy or needed silence, particularly to get away from Keith and Lance’s bickering. 

The small incline of a smile that had appeared quickly fell flat, as he doubted he would hear even Lance’s snide comments for long while. 

“Oh, hi, Keith.” 

Keith looked up as her room’s door slid open, revealing Pidge sitting on the floor against her bed and staring up at him. She had her laptop with her, hands hovering over the keys. Her posture was hunched, her eyes narrowed not in calculation but contrite. He sat beside her before responding. 

“Pidge, I kind of wanted to—“

“I’m sorry.”

Keith was taken aback by the out of the blue apology. “What? Why?”

“I know what I did was a total jerk move,” she elaborated. Keith still didn’t get it. She broke her gaze to hastily close her laptop, setting it aside as she bit her bottom lip. 

“When I asked if you would date Lance I thought you guys would stop the dreadfully painful pining and actually talk about your feelings but—but I didn’t think about you. I just, I just put you in this really uncomfortable situation and embarrassed you without asking because I thought it would help,” she spoke in a hushed tone, and the faster she pushed out each word the more regret he could see clarify in her eyes. 

“I’m not… used to being gentle with people either,” she muttered on. “But that doesn’t excuse my actions. I was a dick. I just thought if you guys finally admitted you both wanted to date each other, you could get together sooner, but it clearly didn’t go the way I hoped. If anything, I…”

Pidge sucked in a breath, and by the way it shook Keith could tell she was trying to hold back. He was watching a dam trying to hold back a flood; he had no idea. 

“I just made it _worse_ ,” she finished, voice wavering as she grimaced. “I really didn’t mean to, Keith…” 

“It’s okay.” Pidge looked up, her eyes glossy eyes making his chest tighten. 

He really hadn’t thought about it with everything going on. He had been too preoccupied with the endless spiral of mistakes that followed. Despite wanting to talk about it, he didn’t blame her for it. Making the situation worse had been entirely on Keith. Sure Pidge joked and teased as much as Lance, but she wasn’t a malicious person. 

“Seriously, Pidge,” he went on. “It was a mistake and your intentions were in the right place. You just didn’t execute it the best. Plus it really wasn’t your fault everything turned out the way it did. Trust me, I’m still managing to make the situation worse even _after_ all that’s happened, and I didn’t need your help or anyone else’s to do it.” Keith gave her a weak smile, too weary to do much more. 

“I…” Her eyes went wide, growing hopeful before she tilted her head slightly to the side in question. “Wait,” she scowled. “What happened?” 

“What?” 

“What did you do to make it worse?” she asked. 

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but rather than words, a resigned sigh came out. “I don’t _know_ anymore… anytime I do something I just end up making him angry or despise my very existence more than he did before. And this time when I actually tried to _help_ him he just threw it back in my face for no reason!” 

“Well, did you ask him why?” 

“I didn’t get a chance!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. 

“Did you explain yourself so he’d understand?” 

“No,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back. “It was self-explanatory.” 

Pidge brought her hands up to her face, groaning into them and fogging her glasses. When she looked back at him, her flat expression read increasingly annoyed. “You guys need to _talk it out_ ,” she said. “Just because you’re both forced to speak the truth doesn’t mean you’ll understand the truth.” 

“I can’t just _say_ the truth,” Keith shot back. “You know how much Lance would tease me? How much blackmail he’d have? Just in general?” 

Pidge made an unconvinced noise and brought out her phone. It had an orange screen, and was developed by herself with little additions by Hunk. Keith had no idea how she did it, but had stopped questioning her brilliance ages ago. “I don’t know how _true_ that is, but I do know one thing.” She pulled up a photo of a pine tree, shining it in his face. “This is you.” 

Keith’s face scrunched up, his eyes passing between the image and her face. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m part Galra, Pidge, not tree.” 

Pidge didn’t respond, simply sliding her thumb across the screen to show another picture. This time, it was an image of whipped cream. _Where did she even get these?_

“Whatever you’re trying to say… I’m not getting it,” he muttered. 

With a raised brow, she swiped one last time, showing a poorly photoshopped image of the letter “F” beside a picture of a log. Pidge wasn’t grinning, but the amused glint behind her glasses clued Keith in. It clicked.

“ _Pidge!_ ” he shouted, throwing his arms out towards her to grab for the device. 

She sniggered as she pulled away, and Keith was too tired to go after her. Groaning, he dropped his head back against her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Exhaustion was setting in, despite what little he had done today. Fighting was one thing, but needing to communicate with people for hours for the sake of the universe was unequivocally worse. 

“I’m _not_ —“ Keith choked. He couldn't finish the sentence. It was a lie, and Pidge knew it too, letting a smirk slip past her otherwise composed features. 

He just wanted a break. 

“Listen, I’m not here to tease you.” Keith shot her an unimpressed glare, but he knew she was telling the truth. It was all she could do, and for once, he was grateful. “I’m just agreeing with you, the only reason this all went south—well, not including my ‘helpful’ little shove—was because you guys can’t be honest with each other.” 

Keith went back to staring at the ceiling above, his eyes slowly coming to a close. She was right, as always, and he couldn’t deny it. But _like hell_ was he going to talk to the blue paladin about his problems—especially his Lance-related problems. 

“Which is quite a feat, really,” she went on, adjusting her glasses. “Avoiding the truth under the effects of a truth serum. I’d be impressed if you weren’t so clueless.” 

Like a match being lit, fire flared in his gut, flickering momentarily before being smothered by an overwhelming burnout. All arguments and quips died on his tongue, the only sound escaping being a low sigh. 

“I heard what he said after I left,” he said, not sure how else to get Pidge to understand. “After that dinner, Lance said he didn’t want to date me.” Pidge scooted over quietly, and in a gentle gesture, pressed herself closer to Keith’s side. 

“He was embarrassed, Keith… I can’t imagine who wouldn’t be.”

“Well, no wonder!” his voice rose dangerously. “He didn’t—wouldn’t—even remember the bonding moment, why would he want to remember that!” 

Pidge tensed beside him. “How do you know he forgot the bonding moment?”

“I asked!” 

“And he answered?” 

Keith opened his mouth to bark back his response, but held his tongue. “I… well, yes…?” He saw Pidge shake her head, showing her clear disapproval. He bit the bottom of his lip before responding. “In spanish…”

He flinched when Pidge let out a miffed groan. “Then he didn’t! You have no idea…” The way she trailed off, her voice dropping, made Keith frown, but he didn’t question it. He wasn’t going to abuse this curse to force answers from one of his very few friends. 

“Even if I tried again he’d probably do the same thing,” he reckoned. 

“Then fight back.”

Before he could question her train of thought, a circular shaped object was pressed into his palms, and he looked down to see a roll of silver duct tape. _Once again,_ where _did she get this?_

“Yeah, again,” Keith snorted softly. He appreciated the gesture despite its meaning flying over his head. “I have no idea how you think this would help.” 

Pidge brought her palm to her mouth, covering her devious smile. “Bit hard to answer embarrassing questions with your mouth covered,” she explained, her voice muffled. 

Keith’s eyes widened, momentarily forgetting his exhaustion and jumping up from his spot on the ground. “Pidge, you’re a genius.” He took hold of his belt bag, rushing to push the tape inside. 

“I know.” She smiled up at him. “But thank you, Keith.”

Keith rolled his eyes, despite wearing an expression matching that of Pidge’s. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

“No,” she told him. Her countenance went soft in a way he never expected from her. “For forgiving me.” 

Before he could respond, the door behind Keith slid open, Pidge’s eyes widening as she looked over at the entrance. Without a sole look over his shoulder, he could recognize the winded voice. 

“Yo—Pidgeon. I was wondering if you’ve seen…” Lance cut off, as if finally looking into the room. “Keith.” He didn’t like the way his name rolled from out of Lance, like the Christmas present no one wanted. A dull shock was painted over his words, trying to hide the feeling underneath it. It was no use. 

He already knew how Lance felt. 

Keith took in a deep breath before turning around to face his inevitable doom. He knew the blue paladin would be standing in the doorway, but he hadn’t expected him to look as shocked as he did. Keith didn’t waste a moment, stepping towards the door. 

“I was just leaving,” Keith explained. 

An overzealous hand shot out, wrapping around his upper arm. Keith jolted at the contact, his eyes meeting blue ones in a rush. Lance’s face was closer than Keith deemed necessary, the warmth of his breath brushing over his nose as he spoke. 

“You’re the reason I’m here, actually,” Lance said. 

Pidge shuffled in the back of the room, bringing herself up to stand. He could feel her eyes on his back, switching between him and Lance, but Lance’s gaze didn’t waver. With quiet mumbling, she pushed past them. 

“No en mi cama,” Pidge told Lance, leaving the room. Keith had to hold back a groan. 

_I really need to learn Spanish._

—

Lance’s hold relinquished on Keith at Pidge’s words, clasping on to his own chest faster than a viper’s bite. He scowled at Pidge as she left, working to force the blush that attempted to tinge his cheeks. 

“Your accent sucks!” he shouted after the door slid shut. 

“What do you want?” Keith’s voice might as well have been a growl.

Lance dropped his hands, shoving them into the pockets of his jacket. He gaze mimicked the motion, falling to the floor. He couldn’t handle that fierce gaze on a normal basis, there was no way he could look at Keith now. 

“I wanted to explain,” he started, not knowing where else to. 

Keith grunted. “No need.” He took another step forward, nearing the door, when desperation settled in. 

“I didn’t know you were trying to give me the antidote.” 

Keith halted, his flat gaze watching him, calculating in a way much darker than any look he’d seen on Pidge. A remote had pressed pause on his lungs and heart, and rather than making Lance wither away, it froze him in place. 

“What did you _think_ I gave you?” he asked, strained and quiet. 

“Someone at the party told me it was kind of a…” Lance looked away, trying to find a better way to avoid any mention of a confession. “A stronger version of Altean truth serum.” It wasn’t a lie. “I would just blabber on about the truth without anyone asking.”

The harsh angles that made up Keith relaxed, if only slightly. His brows were the sole thing that tensed further, pressing together in confusion. Rather than speaking, Keith moved across the room, sinking down to the floor against Pidge’s bed. He gave no invitation for Lance to sit beside him, so Lance remained standing, his spine awkwardly straight. 

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you,” Lance said. “I should’ve trusted you and asked you if it was true, not blindly listen to some asshole midget.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Keith said. Frustration sparked in Lance, and he would have acted on it—then Keith sighed. “ _But._ I’m sorry too. I should’ve just told you in the first place.”

Lance took a chance, taking long, slow steps until he reached Keith, who was looking up at him with narrowed, curious eyes. He dropped down beside the boy on the floor, crossing his legs. When their eyes met, Lance noticed the bags under Keith’s tired eyes, and it jolted him. The boy never wore out. 

“Why did you want to give it to me, anyway?” Lance asked. 

Keith visibly faltered, a rarity in Lance’s experience. “I… I know how hard it is to be honest with things that make us uncomfortable,” he admitted, a glazed look hazing over clear periwinkle. He absently wondered what memories Keith could be recalling. “And after the trials, you looked so… I, I can’t imagine what that was like, and I won’t ask but—I just thought you deserved it.”

Out of everything Lance had done to Keith, the endless mockery and jokes, the foundation of their rivalry, the dubbing of Keith as a ‘loner,’ and pretending to forget the bonding moment. Even after it all, Keith was still looking out for him. To Keith, it didn’t matter how much Lance pushed, because Keith would push back twice as hard, hugging Lance afterward. 

Lance was almost touched. 

“Plus you never seem to stop talking, so out of everyone I thought you’d need the most help,” Keith mocked. 

Lance gasped dramatically, smacking Keith’s arm when the boy laughed. Within moments, Lance found himself joining Keith, side-eyeing that brilliant gem of a smile, enjoying the lighthearted curve of pink lips. 

Lance averted his eyes, smooth laughter dying before it could morph into something humiliating. He cleared his throat, centering Keith’s attention back at him. “So we’re good?” Lance asked. 

“Yes, Lance,” he chuckled, softer now. “We’re good.” 

The two grew quiet, no longer tense or awkward in the silence shared between them. Lance thought of ways to break it, jokes bubbling up to poke and prod at Keith with, but didn’t give in to the temptation. He didn’t want to mess up this moment. Lance enjoyed the position he was in too much to risk ruining it. 

A gentle weight pressed down on his shoulder, and when he looked over, his breath caught. He had expected a gloved hand, not all of Keith. His head had fallen on its side, dark tresses of hair fluttering along Lance’s neck and back. He heard Keith’s calm breathing as his own breath shot through the roof, his heart pumping rapidly at the sudden oxygen. 

Keith had fallen asleep. 

On him.

_There was no way._

“Keith?” he whispered, too quiet for even himself to hear. He could just barely make out the slack composure that overcame Keith’s countenance, jet-black locks covering most of his face. 

Lance sucked in a shaky breath, his free arm moving to stop at Keith’s face. Hesitating for another moment, he pressed forward with a gentle hand, brushing away stray strands of hair. He accidentally stroked a cheek in the process, resulting in a noise erupting from Keith’s throat that was so soft Lance jolted back. 

As his shoulder followed his body, Keith dropped, his head conveniently falling into Lance’s lap. Lance cursed between heavy breaths, his hands high up in the air, as if surrendering to the gods in hopes of ending this torture. 

“ _Keith,_ ” he hissed, his voice still deadly quiet. 

He froze when Keith mumbled in response, his words jumbled and incredibly inebriated with sleep. Keith whirled around then, his eyes fluttering while closed as he faced Lance’s stomach. When Keith exhaled, his hot breath brushed across his exposed midriff, sending chills up his spine. He instantly dropped his hands, his shirt returning to cover tan skin. 

_Keittttthhhhh!_

His lungs felt like they had been transported to space, making breathing impossible besides short, fruitless gasps for air. His heart threw itself across his chest in each moment he struggled with. Lance mastered a violent balance; the need to jump up and run butted heads with the want to stay, his eyes unable to leave long eyelashes and pale skin. 

_Fuck._

His hands moved on their own accord, gradually delving into dark hair to play with it. Keith hummed when fingers caressed his scalp, not doing anything to help cool his warm cheeks. If anything, the warm pooled further, and Lance had to bite the inside of his mouth to realign himself with reality. 

_I need to leave._

He couldn’t stop running his hands through soft hair, fingers twirling around tresses and massaging scalp. The panic started to fade in the background, a calm overcoming him as Keith relaxed into his tremulous palms. The boy was almost _purring,_ and Lance stared in awe. A dangerous thought entered his mind.

_And I’m only playing with his hair… what else can I do?_

It was when Lance dared to stroke Keith’s temple when Keith moved forward, his nose pressing up against his waist. Lance squeaked, the contact making muscles tighten. He didn’t get a chance to react further.

The mechanical hiss of the door sliding open clutched his throat into choked silence, hoping the panic in his eyes reached the newcomer. “ _Pidge_ ,” he breathed out. 

Pidge didn’t move for a short minute, staring as a gradual, smug grin came about. Lance felt his blood burning, knowing wherever this was going, Pidge wouldn’t be much help. She prided herself on flashing her camera as she brandished it. 

“Pidge,” he repeated. “Pidge, I swear I’ll… I’ll…” 

“You’ll what?” she dared, stepping forward. 

“Do this,” he uttered. Lance took one of his hands from Keith’s head, reaching out to swipe at her and the camera. She stayed right along the outskirts of his reach. Pidge knew he wouldn’t move, not wanting to wake the boy lost in a pleasant sleep sprawled across his lap. 

She snickered as she rose the phone up eye level. Despair snuck in, and Lance was forced to grasp at straws rather than delicate strands of hair. Placing a hand on either side of him, he leaned forward, trying to ignore the press of warm skin against his stomach. To his dismay, she continued taking pictures.

“Pidge, _please_ you can’t—you can’t show Keith,” he begged. “He’ll smother me in my sleep!” 

Her sharp, amused look grew sympathetic, and she lowered the phone. “I wasn’t planning on it,” she replied candidly. “I meant to give them to you, as a peace offering, not to blackmail you.” 

The edges of Lance’s mouth dipped in confusion. “I don’t… why?” 

“Remember when Keith was in the pod for analysis and I asked you who you would date?” she asked. 

Lance flushed, answering without temporizing. “Yes, but how does that have anything to do with this?” he questioned. Lance assumed mockery would follow, surprised when she did speak up. 

“I shouldn’t have meddled with your guys’ relationship,” he told him. “So consider this my apology, since I know you’ll love to flaunt these pictures once you two are together.” 

Lance’s heart skipped as Keith nudged him, drawing his hands to trickle back into his hair. His flush deepened as he stared down at the red paladin. “That’s not…” he sought for words, his mind whirling. “There’s no way Keith actually _feels_ anything for me.”

Rather than argue, Pidge asked, “How are you so sure?” 

“Because I am,” he shot back, forgetting to keep his voice down. Keith stirred in his lap, but didn’t wake. Lance lowered his voice. “I just _am_ ,” he whispered. 

It had been like being hooked on a drug at first, with each compliment he knew to be truth coming from Keith’s lips that made his heart pound. He knew it was nothing; Keith had just been honest about what he saw. Anyone could appreciate good looks without genuinely caring about the person. Lance knew that at heart; he flirted with aliens in passing for meaningless fun. 

It was only his own hesitation that made him believe. The small inkling of hope that maybe Keith wasn’t like him in that regard, that maybe each word had true significance behind them. That maybe Lance could mean something to Keith, even if it didn’t match what Lance hoped he could be. 

But it was a child’s dream. 

Something of the past, belonging to the Cuban child that once attended the Garrison, fought to stay as a pilot, before Voltron, and before this moment. It was not something he could let himself hope for anymore. 

“Keith doesn’t speak without purpose,” Pidge said. Lance’s train of thought flew off the rails, crashing into oblivion and throwing him further into doubt. “What he says he _means._ You just need to listen to him. He’s not used to being around people like we are, so you have to be gentle around him… because when you speak, he thinks you mean it too. He hasn’t realized you’re not the same.” 

Lance’s eyes didn’t leave the slumbering paladin, so Pidge went on. “He hasn’t realized you’re an idiot who says dumb things you don’t always mean,” she elaborated, though there wasn’t the usual snap to her tone. 

He snorted, quiet enough to be mistaken for a forceful exhale. “I’ve already screwed up the chance I didn’t have.” 

Though his eyes weren’t on her, Lance knew Pidge was rolling hers. “ _Lance_.”

“And if I haven’t,” Lance rushed to say before Pidge interrupt. “I’m going to.” 

He looked up at the sound of footsteps, as Pidge encroached his inner circle, holding out the phone in her hand. Lance stalled, his gaze switching between the device and Pidge’s unnaturally soft gaze. Hovering a moment longer, he reached out and took it. When their eyes met again, she smiled.

“Talk to him, then. Prove me wrong.” 

—

Keith awoke in bed. His eyes opened to find himself alone in a room that—thankfully, after one good look around—was his own. 

Then the panic settled in. 

_How did I get here?_

His memory was hazed over from the grog of sleep, but flashes of the day before began to creep in. Within moments the flashes connected to form a single, coherent thought, one that could be most profoundly defined with two words. 

_Oh, fuck._

Keith vaguely recalled his conversation with Lance. He remembered the important bits, but the details, like certain choices of words, were lost in his haze. After his eyes fell shut all he felt was warm comfort. A different kind of warmth flooded him now, making his cheeks hot. 

Had Lance… carried him to bed?

His own poor wording didn’t help the reddening of flushed skin, and Keith brought his hands to shield his face from the world. The mental image of a gentle, bridal style hold assailed and overtook any previous rerun of memories. He was sure Lance did it either because he was threatened by Pidge, for the purpose of blackmail, or some mixture of the two.

The fabricated image reminded him of when their roles were reversed. 

_He still hasn’t answered my question about whether or not he remembered the bonding moment._

Sighing into his hands, he continued running them up until they reached his hairline, then continued further back into his locks. The movement jostled a section of his mind that was locked away, and he couldn’t understand why running his own fingers against scalp sent chills down his spine. 

“I’m never drinking anything Altean ever again,” he groaned. 

Sliding off his bed, Keith had all but failed to notice the jacket on his shoulders until it fell to the floor. He hadn’t come round to dispel the idea that it wasn’t his jacket, until his eyes landed on the very non-red fabric. In return, his face lit up again with color to oppose it. 

Rather than doing what any other _logical_ person would do and cover him with a blanket, Lance had taken it upon himself to not only take off Keith’s jacket, but draping his own over Keith. Swiping the jacket from the floor and locating his own, he cursed to himself, stomping out of his room in embarrassment. 

He might as well get this over with. 

From the bright lighting of the halls, he had missed his early morning training session on top of breakfast. That meant Lance wouldn’t be easy to find until their next meal, so Keith would be forced to aimlessly wander. He needed to get lucky, and how things have been going the past few days, he wouldn’t find Lance unless the Galra attacked. 

When he entered the piloting room, Keith had expected to find Allura or Coran. He hadn’t been wrong, but he hadn’t anticipated the presence of the other, conversing paladins. The moment his boots scuffed the floor of the room, all faces turned to him, starting with Shiro and ending with Lance.

Self-consciousness seeped through the sudden quiet, and Keith’s grip on a certain olive green jacket tightened. Coran and Allura returned to their conversation without a second glance, though the paladins wavered. Lance caught on, flat look switching between Keith’s averted gaze and his jacket. 

“Oh,” Lance said, tone strangely detached. “That’s where that went.” He began walking towards Keith. 

Keith’s primal instinct was to defend himself, saying he had found it, but his mouth remained clamped shut. The more he could avoid questions and press on the better. When Lance entered his personal bubble, leaning in, Keith felt his body shut down to mimic his missing voice. 

“Allura called a meeting while you slept, and Pidge covered for you,” Lance said under his breath, reaching for his jacket. “We’re apparently going on a ‘one-day vacation’ for handling our ‘situation’ as well as we have.” 

“Let’s hope Allura doesn’t consider intense training as a vacation,” he muttered back. He kept his eyes off him. Lance snorted while tugging on his jacket. 

“Glad you could join us,” Allura said, not unkindly.  
The coincidence of her chipping in drew Keith’s eyes to her pointed ears. He vacantly wondered if the differences in physical appearance also applied to their use, and if Alteans had better hearing than humans. He hoped that was a long shot. 

“Now that everyone is here,” the princess went on, facing the other paladins. “We are going to head over to an allied planet but we will be unable to warp over as they have certain laws that forbid us to do so. Because of this, I would prefer for you all stay present in this room until we arrive.” 

Understandably, Allura wanted to keep her warriors as close to their weapons as possible. If they were separated from their lions or even from each other, it could cause a rift in battle. 

Hunk stepped forward, Pidge quick to join him. “Actually, Allura, we were wondering if we could help work on the castle’s dissimulating device so we don’t have to warp so frequently in fear of being found.” 

“The Galra's tracking _is_ an issue,” Coran admitted. 

Allura looked torn. “I don’t want to put any of you in a position of danger,” she said. “The further you are from your lions the lower the chances are that you can reach them and form Voltron.” 

Pidge cleared her throat, speaking up in favor of Hunk. “We can handle ourselves,” she said simply. “And adjusting and improving our dissembling device would help us in the long run.” 

With one final, dubious look to an ardent Coran, Allura sighed. She nodded, giving in. “All right, but the very tick you hear the klaxon sound I want all hands on deck.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith could hear the strain in Pidge’s voice as she fought an eye roll, not wanting to face Shiro’s trademark disappointed dad look. He didn’t blame her. “Like I said, we can handle it. We were chosen as the paladins of Voltron for a reason, weren’t we?” 

The princess gave another short nod, allowing herself a small smile. “Indeed,” she replied. “As long as you all look out for each other,” Allura shot Keith and Lance a fleeting look, “I’ll allow it.” 

With that, Hunk and Pidge departed in haste. They muttered lingo as they passed akin to Altean to Keith’s untrained ear. He didn’t mind not understanding, as he had grown accustomed to the feeling after being around Lance for so long. The only unknown that churned his gut with uncertainty was what was coming next. 

Keith could only hope a real vacation was on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and your continued support— bc i’m genuinely surprised any of you are reading this at all, tbh
> 
> but really, thanks again loves  
> <3


	9. Lance you doorknob

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i can say about this chapter is *sigh* Lance, why are you like this?  
> if you pay attention you’ll understand…  
> details are very, very important

The trip over left Lance on edge. The whole time on deck Allura was on the lookout, whispering to Shiro and occasionally looking back. Feet away, Coran had roped Keith into a fervent conversation, and despite the exaggerated hand gestures from Coran, their words went unheard. He would have considered the entire journey a bore, excluding the tension. 

There were no attacks. 

In fact, there wasn’t even a signal of the Galra nearby at all. 

Rather than calm Allura down, it only made her raise more suspicions. _”What if they’ve discovered a more efficient way to cloak themselves?_ ” she had hypothesized. Nonetheless, the trip remained eerily quiet, and there had been no need for Pidge and Hunk to return to the main deck. 

Their normal docking procedure took longer than usual, as the planet of Amora had intense defensive systems. After seeing how seriously they took their security protocol, it was no wonder they remained safe from Galra hands. Once on land, though, the Amorai were very welcoming. 

The Amorai people were far from what Lance had expected. Comprised of what appeared to be varying, amalgamated blobs of matter, they were translucent shape shifters. Each one seemed to have a different natural form, whether it be considering height, color, or shape. However, they all shared odd, glassy skin that revealed free-roaming, mixing liquids. Every Amorai had gaping holes that served as mouths, which, when closed, would disappear, leaving no indication it had existed in the first place. To Lance, they looked like the amoebas he was forced to inspect under a microscope back in middle school. 

They creeped him out, to say the least. 

Their planet was very in tune with nature, as most buildings were interwoven with roots or various, unnamable plants. Other skyscrapers were imbedded within the soaring trees that reached overhead and blanketed areas of shade. In the places where there was an absence of light, bioluminescent mushrooms and moss lining the forest floor and up the walls of certain structures gave off brilliant light. 

Pidge was instantly enamored by the science of it all, and Hunk was already talking about ways to use the plants for his own research. Coran went after them, excited at the prospect of explaining the history and mechanics of the alien planet. One of the Amorai representatives continued speaking, and Lance overhead a snippet of their conversation. 

“Your timing is quite magnificent, actually,” a female representative remarked. “We’re in the middle of our monthly carnival celebration.” Lance was more than ready to go see this for himself. It was better than sticking around here for ‘compulsory confederation duties.’

He decided it was his cue to leave. 

Lance quietly slipped away, moving away from the remaining group to wander down the road. Within minutes, he had heard music. It was simple and airy, embracing newcomers with the sounds strangely soft drums and low violins. He guessed they were different instruments altogether, but they sounded close enough. 

The streets began to twist, forming tighter alleyways, filled with even more Amorai, each wearing more and more extravagant outfits the further he wandered. The music heightened as the fungi went from glowing to blinking in the intense shade. It was like a bizarre disco hidden away in the forest—not like any carnival he had ever been too. To Lance, it seemed more like a party than anything. 

His eyes caught on a nearby building. Nestled between a bakery and an apartment complex made entirely of entwined plant life stood a peculiar structure. Rather than build from greenery or trees, it was contrived of dimly glowing material that matched that of the paved walkways. It could almost be mistaken for a miniature carnival tent, only with darker colors. 

Passing a group of laughing Amorai eating what could only be described as thick cotton candy, Lance made his way to the building. There was no indents of alien language above the entrance to indicate what kind of establishment this was. In spite of how shady the place seemed, he felt himself drawn to it, reaching out and pulling away the drapes that covered the entrance. 

Inside the entire, circular space was filled with curved shelves and tables, filled with colorful baubles. There were objects with jagged edges, others filled with strange liquids, and some looked like scrolls written on silver parchment. Picking up a squid-esque doll made of silky material, he wondered if he had actually entered a child’s toy store. Quick to look up, it was then when he took notice of the absence of customers—of anyone, really. 

_Oh god, what if this is someone’s house?_

Abrupt chuckles came from behind one of the packed racks, and Lance tumbled back, dropping the toy in the process. A pudgy, toothy Amorai stepped out from the aisle and into Lance’s. Though he wore an easygoing look, Lance’s hand went straight to his bayard. Allura would kill him if he ruined this alliance by scaring them off. 

“I assure you, I do not live here,” the Amorai said, laughing to himself. _Did I say that out loud?_ “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, blue paladin Lance. I am Callidus.” 

“You know who I am?” he asked. The shopkeeper moved closer, jostling Lance a bit, until he reached down to grab the doll Lance had dropped. Placing the object back down in its rightful place, Callidus turned back to Lance, smiling. 

“Among other things,” he told him, sauntering past. “You know, the only reason anyone comes in here anymore is because they’re searching for something. What are you searching for?” 

Lance was taken a bit aback by the question. He was unsure how to respond, but was obligated to respond without waiting a beat. “I’m not sure.”

The blue paladin was following the shopkeep out of sheer curiosity as he went around the shop. With a translucent finger pointing up in the air, waving back and forth, Callidus seemed to think, light-eyed gaze switching between certain objects throughout the store. Then, his hand froze in the air. 

“Who is Keith?” Callidus asked, eyes switching to watch Lance. 

“Wh—the red paladin,“ he answered, the serum overrunning his confusion. “You know the blue paladin but not the red one?” 

“I only know what I hear,” Callidus explained, albeit more vague than helpful. “You think louder than any other alien I’ve met, yet you manage to keep your internal affairs very muted.” Lance blanched. 

“Excuse me?” he spoke in a squeak. An insane notion passed through his mind, but he dismissed it.

_There’s no way Amorai can read minds. Allura would have warned us._

“Correct,” Callidus said, raising his finger again, higher than before. “I am of a dying line of Amorai, you see. There are not many of us left with the ability. Quite frankly, I’m starting to believe I might be the last.” 

Lance could only stare. If this dude was serious, Lance wasn’t staying around for long. It was hard enough to do mind-melding exercises back on the Castle of Lions with the other paladins, and he _knew_ them. He didn’t want some stranger in his mind. 

“That’s understandable,” the shopkeep nodded, bare feet moving across the floor to reach the main counter. “But I mean no harm, I like to help where I can. So, as I am aware of your… condition, may I ask what’s been bothering you?”

“No,” he replied curtly. 

Lance’s fingers played with the fabric of his armor’s gloves, pulling at the stretching material in hopes of distracting himself. Panic had set in the moment he realized he was no longer safe in his own mind. He had to prevent himself from thinking of anything embarrassing. 

As if to spite him, his mind reacted, flashing with memories of the past few days, of what he should _not_ be thinking of. Each image contained Keith, whether it be him smiling with such sweetness it made his heart hurt, or asleep in his lap as Lance ran his fingers through smooth, ebony hair. Heat swarmed his cheeks. 

_Shit,_ he cursed, knowing Callidus would hear him. _I swear it’s not what you think._

“So you don’t like the red boy then?” he asked. 

“I do,” Lance replied, then proceeded to choke. On instinct, he brought his hands up to shield the growing color in his face. “ _Fuck,_ ” he whined. 

“I do not understand,” Callidus went on, unfazed. He could hear the Amorai’s footsteps as he walked around his shop. He was still looking for something. “What is the problem?” 

Lance’s voice rose as he talked through raised hands. “I—he—I don’t know how he—I mean, I know he thinks I’m _hot,_ but like, Hunk calls me hot all the time, and he’s just my best bud,” his breath grew ragged as he spoke without breaking for air. “But Keith—Keith doesn’t like me very much—but that’s my fault, I guess, I just… I don’t know _how_ I’m supposed to deal with him, and I can’t just _tell_ him how I feel.”

Callidus went quiet, not even walking around as Lance regained his breath. He tried not to think much of anything else; this shopkeeper knew way too much already. _I really shouldn’t have come in here…_

“And you do not want to ask him, even though you could, because it would be wrong to put him in that position when he’s obligated to tell the truth,” Callidus said. “But you cannot tell him how _you_ feel, because you dislike the idea of showing vulnerability. It’s why you separate yourself from your team when you’re homesick. It’s why you don’t speak of your insecurities. It’s why you pretended to forget about the bonding moment. You’re scared.”

Lance’s hand slowly fell away from his face so he could gawk at Callidus. His comments hadn’t been worded as questions either. No, they were facts, and both of them knew so. 

“Holy quiznak,” he muttered under his breath. 

Callidus smiled up at him, with just the bare indent of a line showing his mouth. Once more, the shopkeep brought up his index finger, shaking it a bit before wandering off. If his legs didn’t feel like they might crumble beneath him with a single step, Lance might have followed him. 

“You know,” he heard Callidus from across the room, rummaging through a box. “We Amorai have many different forms of love, as you humans do. However, we actually have specific names for each.” 

When Callidus returned, he had two bracelets in hand. They were one of the same, made of gingerly plaited metal, with a breadth so thin it looked like it would disintegrate under the lightest touch. He looked up at Callidus in question. In response, Callidus reached out for one of Lance’s hand, pushing the bracelets into his palm. He only retracted his hand when Lance’s closed around the matching gifts. 

“Now you see, these bracelets are bonded to one another,” the shopkeep explained. “Meaning whatever one wearer feels for the other wearer, it will occasionally be shown on the bracelets through colors.” Lance gave his fist a frown, before giving the same look to Callidus. 

“If, for instance, your red boy—“

“Please, _please,_ don’t call him that,” Lance interrupted.

“—only sees you as, how you say, _hot_ , then the bracelet would glow red with eros,” he went on as if Lance hadn’t spoken. “If you are a very good friend or family member, it will glow orange with philia. But, what you are looking for is pragma.” 

Blue eyes narrowed at the shopkeeper in confusion. “Pragma?” 

“It is time-tested, loyal love,” Callidus expounded, nodding. Lance felt himself flush again. “So in the end, we have red for eros, orange for philia, and purple for pragma. We also have others, such as ludus, agape, and philautia, but those aren’t as important in your situation.” Beginning to understand the idea, Lance had grown to compare the bracelets to mood rings. If mood rings accurately expressed moods, that is. 

Lance moved to put away the bracelets, then froze halfway. “Uh, I don’t have anything I could repay you with…” he mumbled. 

“No need.” Callidus smiled once more. “You risk your life to protect my people. ‘Tis more than enough for me.” 

Lance beamed back. 

—

Keith had gone off soon after Lance, though making sure to go in an opposing direction. Even so, he guessed they would end up in the same place in the end, as he had seen the way Lance perked up at mention of a carnival. Keith couldn’t blame him. Walking down a winding path, Keith absently pondered whether or not this he was going the right direction. 

He only knew he had been right the moment the scenery changed, road widening to reveal lavish partygoers, dressed in colorful silks and fabrics. They were at home here, Keith realized. Their attire matched the explosive, glowing pigment of the encompassing stands and shops, chatter both understandable and not seeping through the saccharinely scented air. 

Time seemed to fly past here. He had wandered between various stalls and kiosks, even stopping to gawk in awe at a trio of Amorai on stage who were, quite literally, playing with fire. They ran their hands over flaming pits, even lighting small grass balls and playing casual catch rather than hot potato. He would have supposed this was normal for the Amorai, but from how the crowd gasped and the children watched with wide eyes, he decided they weren’t fireproof. 

Keith had been leaning over a game stall, where in order to win a strange, fluffy creature, he would have to prove his bravery. It seemed fun. He didn’t understand the concept, but was willing to have a go, when someone poked him in his side. Flinching in on himself, Keith turned to see he hadn’t escaped Lance’s presence for long. The blue paladin wore a wide grin, and it hadn’t taken long for Lance to poke him again. 

“What do you want?” Keith asked, trying his best to seem miffed. 

“To give you this,” he answered directly. Lance held out his hand, revealing a shimmering bracelet. It took Keith a minute to realize Lance was giving it to him, and it took Keith another minute to realize Lance was wearing a similar one around his wrist. 

Keith took it, though hesitant, and proceeded to slip it around his own hand. Rather than ask why, he decided to ask the more pressing question. “Is it going to make me say something… stupid?” he questioned. 

Lance’s smile didn’t falter. “Nope,” he replied. “You don’t need my help for that anyway.”

Any remaining kindness in Keith’s expression was obliterated and replaced with a cold glare. He knew Lance had an ulterior motive anytime he showed a smidgen of affection, and this wasn’t an exception. Once again he was trying to get a rise out of Keith. 

“Anyway,” Lance went on, nudging past him. “What’s this?” 

Keith sighed as he turned back to the booth, watching as Lance scanned the small bundles of fur bouncing around below. His gut began to warn him with suspicion, making him question why Lance’s sudden interest in him. 

_But I can’t just ask._

“It’s a game booth,” Keith explained, keeping his distance. 

Lance rolled his eyes. “ _Thank_ you, Captain Obvious.” The blue paladin leaned over the countertop, getting closer to inspect the creatures before the Amorai running the booth shooed him back. 

At that moment, Keith felt a lot like those winnable balls of fluff. 

He was weak, trapped, and nothing more than a tool for others’ amusement. Remembering the night before, he knew Lance didn’t always mean to get on Keith’s bad side, but this wasn’t one of those times. And Keith wasn’t going to let himself slip up anymore. There couldn’t be a next time, otherwise he would messed up in a way he could never hope to fix. 

His hand ghosted over his side, and Keith remembered what he had hidden under his armor. Another memory of last night popped up, this time of Pidge, and he couldn’t have been more happy to have taken her advice. Not wanting to risk another moment, he pulled out the duct tape he brought along with him. 

Keith had been the one to poke Lance this time. 

When he turned, humming in response, Keith took action. At the sound of tearing tape, Lance’s face had scrunched up. Keith would have smiled at the comical expression he was making—if he could. With a large portion of tape stretching across Keith’s mouth, his facial expression were very limited. At Lance’s confusion, Keith attempted his best triumphant look, crossing his arms over his chest. 

_Suck it, Lance. How’re you going to ask me embarrassing questions now?_

“Seriously?” Lance asked flatly. His eyes trailed down to the hand Keith held the tape in. Keith was quick to put it away. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This can’t actually work, can it?” 

Keith’s mouth went to respond, but each word was caught up behind the barrier, creating a traffic jam of muffled words behind his lips. With the tape acting as a barrier between his personal thoughts and the ears of the world, Keith felt more relaxed than he had in days. His hands shot up in the air in victory, and he did his best to make an ‘aha!’ noise at Lance. 

Lance rolled his eyes, features contorting with muted outrage. “This is ridiculously unfair,” he muttered not before turning to the booth. “You know, I could just tear it off—like a bandaid.”

Keith rose a brow, daring him to follow through. Not only did he have extra tape if needed, he would retaliate before Lance even had a chance to act. He wasn’t going to let Lance pull down his only means of protection. It didn’t take long before Lance conceded with an irritated sigh, however, accepting the situation for what it was. The blue paladin then proceeded to revert his focus to the game.

The rest of the day seemed to speed by after that, as he didn’t cease to challenge Keith at every booth, regardless of the game. One of which included rules neither were accustomed to, and in a feeble attempt to show Keith up, Lance stepped forward to play first. Keith scoffed. It had given Lance an automatic disadvantage, as Keith would get a chance to see the game in action before playing it himself. 

Lance was positioned in front of a series of multicolored walls, all stacked on top and beside on another. It was a strange sight, like giant legos piled up, squished together into neat, uneven squares. Surrounding Lance on the other three sides were deep canals of an inky, mud-like substance. Keith guessed they were meant to show the borders of Lance’s space. Keith watched readily from the sidelines, already amused. He had the perfect view; he could see both the wall and Lance’s ‘I’m trying too hard’ face. 

When Lance had asked the huckster for the rules, the Amorai merely smiled. Keith would have guessed not all Amorai understood English—or that Lance’s question wasn’t being translated—up until the moment the game began. It was then that Keith realized it wasn’t actually a game at all. 

The sound of an air horn filled the air and one of the polychromatic squares of the wall disintegrated, revealing a horrifying sight. 

Keith would have yelled out—if he could. 

Lance was already stumbling back when the creature lurched forward from behind the wall. It moved too fast for Keith to really see it, but he could at least recognize the large pelt of fur on four legs. Neither boys had a chance to react before the beast hurled itself at the blue paladin. Color drained from Lance’s face as he took a final step back, tripping and falling backwards with a loud yelp. The creature seemed to power down the moment Lance’s back hit the ground. 

Except, Lance didn’t hit the ground. 

He fell into the mud canal behind him, covering his entire back half in dark, sticky substance. In the aftermath, the creature’s entire demeanor shifted, adopting a sideways, diverted look. The booth owner had revealed its mouth, wide and letting loose a shrill laugh. Some passerby gone watcher had joined in, emanating sounds Keith guessed were Amorai laughter. 

_This is a joke booth._

Unlike other stalls, there had been no customers here. Even the children had avoided the general proximity. At least, they _had_ , up until Lance had rose to the challenge. Lance had even accumulated a small crowd. 

As for the “beast,” it seemed more like a giant, alien puppy more than anything. It even had the floppy ears of a cocker spaniel to match. To further prove his hypothesis, the creature was no longer jumping out at Lance, rather, it sat patiently at the rim of the mud canal. With twin wagging tails, it looked down at Lance in ignorant bliss of its actions. It was harmless—just an Amorai pet that had followed its owner’s instructions. 

Lance seemed to have reached a similar conclusion.

The taut hand around Keith’s bayard released, and he moved beside the creature to get a better look at Lance. Laughter found its way up Keith’s throat and filtered through his lips before he could stop it. It seemed fitting, almost cathartic; the arrogant jokester of Voltron getting a taste of his own medicine. A deep blue gaze met his then, shooting him a violated look. Keith would have attempted to shield his mouth behind a hand if there wasn’t tape already doing the job.

 _A shitty job, but a job nonetheless,_ Keith admitted.

He outstretched a hand shaky from laughter, offering to Lance. The boy smacked it away in response, huffing loudly to himself as he went to stand. Lance’s first attempt ended in him slipping, falling back down on his side. By now, the crowd was rapidly diminishing, leaving only the smug booth owner in its wake. 

“What kind of messed up game is this supposed to be?” Lance hollered. He had finally pulled himself up from the canal. “How am I supposed to win?” 

“Simply,” the Amorai smirked, eyeing the muddy paladin. Lance made a sharp, exasperated sound, prompting the booth owner to explain. “You were not supposed to get scared. But it was funny.” 

Lance was more than ready to argue, so Keith grabbed him by the forearm. Once the blue paladin met his gaze, though not without a disdainful glare, Keith shook his head. With a little more tugging and prodding, Keith persuaded him to leave in favor of another competition. 

A few blocks down was a mini game, where he was watching Lance was up against an Amorai with multiple arms. She had a cup for each extremity and had placed a dark marble under one of the cups, proceeding to mix them with incredible speed. Keith could barely win that game against someone with two arms. 

It was the moment right before Lance reached to his cup of choice when a hand came down on Keith’s shoulder. He would have gasped, but in his situation he could only tense under the touch. With an abrupt turn, he came face to face with Shiro. 

“ _Okay_ , Keith,” he sighed. “I know the serum has led to some unsavory events, but…”Keith gave a quick glance to Lance a few feet away, who was thankfully still absorbed in the game. 

Before he could aggressively hum his argument, Shiro reached up and ripped off the tape. Sharp, hot pinpricks struck him as his final barrier was torn down. Keith bit back a pained gasp, raising a hand to massage the aggravated skin. 

“Why would you _do_ that?” Keith hissed. This was where Shiro tended to abuse his trademark dad look, but then Keith was reminded their curse affected all the paladins. 

“You can’t avoid your problems,” Shiro said, letting the tape fall to the floor. “Or put up barriers to try to protect yourself from the truth. From the pain.” 

“It works when I’m fighting!” 

Shiro shook his head, rubbing his temples. “You’re not supposed to fight all the time with the people you care about. You have to address the issue. This—“ he motioned to the fallen tape, “—is unhealthy.”

“I _can’t_. I can’t just—“ Keith let out a frustrated sound, no longer muted by the tape. He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. 

He didn’t know what to say, or where to start, really. There was just too much to say. Shiro had already heard about what Lance said after Keith “left” dinner—Shiro had been there. Though Lance _did_ care about him, it obviously wasn’t in the way he wanted. Lance hadn’t even taken Keith seriously. 

“It’s all a joke to him,” Keith decided. It didn’t matter how he felt. 

“You don’t know until you ask,” Shiro said, throwing Keith’s depressing train of thought off the rails. He was really growing to detest that disappointing spark of hope in his chest. “Lance can surprise you, if you let him. 

“He can also let you down,” Keith shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you let him.” 

Shiro’s gaze dropped before rising back up to Keith. He raised an amused brow. “Did he let you down when he gave you that?” On instinct he dropped his arms, moving to hide the bracelet behind his back. 

“No,” he confessed. Warmth flooded his cheeks. “Oh, _whatever_! He didn’t mean anything by it anyway…”

Rather than a single hand, Shiro put both hands on either side of Keith’s shoulders. His fingers pushed into his collarbone. It was as if the pressure would help Shiro make his point. Despite the uncomfortable force, Keith was thankful for Shiro. For a long time he had been the only person Keith had considered family. 

“Everything may seem fine right now, but unresolved feelings and tensions won’t go unnoticed when we form Voltron,” Shiro said. “This doesn’t just affect you, Keith. It affects the whole team.” Keith let his gaze drop to his boots. He knew he couldn’t escape forever, but he wanted to enjoy Lance’s obliviousness while it lasted. 

“Lance is more understanding than you give him credit for.” Shiro squeezed, one last comforting gesture, before pulling away. “Whatever happens, he won’t hate you for it.” 

Multiple arguments tinged the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t express his doubts. Lance had loathed him for no reason before. How much would Lance hate him if Keith actually _gave_ him a reason?

Shiro was right about one part though. 

Addressing the issue would be better for the team and was universally inescapable. Their minds were linked when they formed Voltron, and even Lance would figure it out eventually. It would be better if Keith handled this in an environment he could control. Any semblance of self-command would be better than another Freudian slip. 

Keith was never considered much of a conversationalist, but there was a chance he could talk his way through this. 

—

Lance didn’t notice Shiro’s arrival. At least, not until he had lost his fourth game in a row. He had turned around, bracing himself for Keith’s taunts, genuinely surprised they hadn’t come earlier. 

But Keith had disappeared.

Swerving around in incomplete circles, Lance abandoned the stand. The first idea that came to him is that something went wrong, but if that were true Keith would have warned him. In any case, Keith had left unannounced. As his eyes scanned the translucent mesh of Amorai and intense hues and shades, he spotted a paladin. 

Two, in fact. 

His eyes had captured Shiro’s bulky build facing him first, then he took notice of Keith’s back. His very _clean_ back, if he may add. Lance shifted then, annoyed with the mud caking the back of his head and the majority of his armor. He really hoped it would wash out. 

He had snapped back to attention when Keith had put his hand behind his back. The gesture was simple, and otherwise unimportant, excluding the fact that the bracelet was glowing. Lance had been trying to get it to glow the moment he handed it over to Keith but to no avail. Now, the second Shiro showed up, placing his hands on Keith’s shoulders, it had lit up. 

_Orange._

Lance tried to recall Callidus’ exact words. He needed the color associated with pragma, so he needed to sort through the other tangle of bizarre loves and respective colors.

 _Like Eros,_ he recalled. _Eros was red—not what I need. Then there was philia, which was purple, and then pragma was…_

Lance was staring at the duo, eyes wide. He had forgotten to blink in the process of gawking, unable to take his gaze off the glow. 

_Pragma was orange._

He didn’t want to believe it. Lance felt like a mannequin; not glued to the spot but frozen in position, eternally obligated to pose. He was as fake as the rest of his situation, witnessing his hopes and desire shatter like forgotten porcelain. 

There was knowledge behind the disbelief, a truth that Keith was closer to Shiro than any of the other paladins. The whole reason Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had met Keith to begin with was because he had been searching for Shiro. They shared a bond Lance could never dream to replicate, but he had never realized how deep their relationship ran. 

_I’m the idiot._

With a hefty exhale, Lance closed his eyes and his fists, knowing his knuckles had gone white without needing to see. He didn’t want to open his eyes. At least, not facing the only adjacent humans in the area. So, Lance turned on his heels, opening his eyes just in time to avoid bumping into a group of Amorai teens. Their snorted, soft giggles meant nothing to him, as Lance continued to walk past without even sparing them a smile. 

There was no destination for Lance. All he needed was to get away. His feet continued moving, past the carnival-esque booths and performers, past the aggravating mess of colors that was the crowds, and past anybody and everybody until he reached the border of Amorai’s metropolis. 

There at the end of the cobble road was the wide expanse of forest, even denser than the trees blanketing the Amorai. He stepped forward, crossing a bridge halfway only to come to a halt. There was no rushing water to calm his nerves, as the bridge served no purpose in Lance’s eyes. Rather than crossing a river or a stream, it rose a few feet above a flat meadow that was teeming with glowing shrooms, flowers, and even cyan grasses. 

Without trees to cover the meadow, the night sky looked down at him, leaving the only source of light to be the expanse of stars above and the bioluminescent plants below. He stepped away from the center of the bridge and to its edge, sitting down and letting his legs hang over the edge. It was then that he noticed one of his fists had unfurled, curling back around the thin metal of the bracelet. 

Lance looked down. The metal was cold and void of light under his tight grip, mirroring the chilling imprints of fingers digging into his heart. Despite the cold, his withheld screams had morphed into an angry heat, butting heads with the frigid emptiness. A powerful gust of wind blew past as he released his hold on the bracelet, fully exposing the gift to Lance’s dark gaze. 

He felt betrayed. Though they barely got along and Keith owed him nothing, the sparse memories of shared smiles and silent understanding churned his stomach with painful ferocity. They had meant nothing, yet he had chosen to believe otherwise. Lance couldn’t even understand what had lead him to believe his own self-manifested lies in the first place. 

Lance had known. Deep down, the signs had been everywhere. During the trials imaginary Keith had told him the truth, and despite the real Keith calling him attractive, it was purely matter-of-fact, not complimentary. Furthermore, Keith was the bluntest person Lance had ever met. So if it _did_ mean something, Keith would have let him know. 

It made sense now. The reason Keith had such an easy time talking during that dinner in front of _everyone_ was because it was meaningless. At least, it was to Keith. It didn’t help that Lance teased him any chance he got, giving off a blasé impression. Keith probably thought he didn’t care either. Essentially, Lance had been an idiot. 

_Why did this have to happen to me?_

It was the only question his mind could coherently form. The frustration submerged him, tearing free a single, enraged shriek as he wrenched the bracelet from his wrist. Holding it in his fist one final time, he chucked it across the meadow, watching the glimmering metal fly through the air before disappearing into the verdure below. 

Any shred of hope had flickered before burning out entirely. There was nothing left to comfort him now, so Lance lifted his free, shuddering hands to his face. He knew he had a responsibility. He knew he inevitably would return to the team, acting like nothing had changed. However, if just for this moment, Lance would indulge himself with the silence. 

—

Shiro hadn’t taken up too much of his time, but by the time their team leader had left to find the others, Lance had gone missing. Keith had turned, expecting to see the mud-painted paladin’s back but instead seeing an empty stool and flustered, multi-armed Amorai. 

There was no rush in his step as he made his way over to the vender. From the looks it, Lance probably bolted from pure exasperation after losing so many times. Once he had asked her though, his aforementioned prediction was shrouded in dubiety. 

“He stopped to look behind him,” she explained with a frown. “Then he stormed off without a word. He nearly toppled over some of my girls too while he was at it.” 

_That isn’t like him._

“Can you tell me which direction he went?” asked Keith. The Amorai woman nodded with unexpected enthusiasm. 

“Down that way,” she answered, pointing through the crowd. “Towards the overgrown creek. No water there now. Hardly anyone goes there anymore.” 

Keith didn’t question if there was a reason for that. He didn’t want to waste any time if there was. Following the road until colors turned drab and the crowds dispersed before leaving streets empty altogether, Keith tried to analyze Lance’s train of thought. He came up blank. 

Then he hit a dead end. 

He thought maybe he had taken a wrong turn to end up in this cul de sac. Wherever Lance was now, it was far away from here and the trail had gone cold. 

_Didn’t she say I was looking for a creek?_

Then came the scream. 

It was Lance, and he sounded hurt. Panic struck. The possibility of the Amorai betraying their alliance came to mind and Keith was instantly on guard, his hand on his bayard without a second thought. He shot off in the direction of the abrupt sound, forcing his way past the end of the city’s boundaries and through the underbrush. 

_This is my fault._

If he hadn’t turned around, if he had paid more attention to Lance, this wouldn’t have happened. Lance had been acting weird today—weirder than normal, and yet Keith didn’t say anything. What he would give to go back in time and trade his panic for answers, even at the cost of embarrassing himself. _Again._

Not paying enough attention, Keith tripped, landing on a mysteriously flat portion of rough land in otherwise dense forest. Quickly pressing himself up to stand, he discovered a hidden path, one made purely from scattered cobblestones. Pulling himself to his feet, desperate and lost, Keith trusted his impulse followed the road. 

It was a short path, one that cut off at a bridge. The trees parted with the end of the road, opening into a meadow that Keith assumed to be the same overgrown creek the Amorai woman was referring to. It wasn’t the vast space that clued him in, nor the bridge, but rather who was on the bridge. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” Keith shouted, stepping out onto the bridge. 

Lance’s gaze snapped to him, bearing an expression commensurate with a deer caught in headlights, but Keith didn’t falter. He had actually been _worried_ about Lance—and for no good reason either. Even as Lance scrambled up from his sitting position along the edge of the bridge he pressed forward. Tan hands came up in surrender, but Keith didn’t yield, rather he reached out and grabbed the collar of Lance’s armor. 

Keith didn’t know why he was doing this or what he planned to do, but whatever it was he was going to do it with an irritated, burning passion. Despite his contentious intentions, Keith didn’t act out. Huge, blue orbs wet with oceans of sadness peered into him, replacing Keith’s anger with horror.

“You’ve been crying,” Keith muttered, outwardly stating his self-realization more than anything. The only other memory of wet sapphire arose in his mind, and he remembered the day Lance expressed his insecurities in Blue. “Lance, do you… do you want to talk about it?”

Lance turned his head, bringing up the heels of his palms to rub away stray tears. Red stained against blue eyes, and Keith never imagined hating the color combination more. This time there was no darkness to shield Lance’s grimacing frown, as the glowing plant life and starlight provided more light than either of the two boys wanted. 

“No,” Lance grumbled. He tried to step back but was unsuccessful, the back of his boots teetering off the edge of the bridge. “What do you want, _Keith_?” 

“I want to help,” Keith snapped back. “Why are you so insistent on pushing me away?” Lance gave him an inscrutable look that fell flat on Keith. 

“Because it’s none of your business,” Lance replied. The anger that had simmered down began to smolder with each dismissive response. Keith’s voice rose. 

“Because it’s none of my business,” Keith repeated, bitterness coating his mouth and tinging his words with acid. “You-you—“ Keith bit back a shout that devolved into a throaty groan. “I don’t know why I bother!” 

“Why _do you_ then?” Lance’s voice doubled in volume and intensity to match. 

“I don’t know!” he answered in earnest. Keith was yelling now, spitting out his words with as much sting as he could muster. “And you won’t let me _ask_ you what’s wrong, so understanding the problem is impossible!”

“Good!” 

A frustrated noise ripped from Keith’s throat and he stepped forward. He overshot, proceeding to move closer and force a startled Lance back—right off the bridge. His hold along Lance’s collar tightened, but he failed to pull Lance back, resulting in both of them falling over the edge. 

It wasn’t a high fall, but Keith doubted landing on top of Lance helped. The plants below softened the fall, and Lance grunted underneath him as they hit the floor. Keith was quick to recover, pushing himself up not to move away but to hover above Lance. Positioning a hand on either side of the blue paladin’s face, he pinned Lance down, breathing hard. 

Now he had the upper hand. 

“Talk. To. Me,” Keith said, placing a meaningful distance between each word. 

Wide blue narrowed, growing dark despite the glowing flora below them. The crushed undergrowth had spilt across Lance’s armor, staining it and mixing with the remains of mud. Unkempt, brunet hair splayed out across the grass, making it glow, and Lance breathed in clipped pants. It was a maddening sight to try to concentrate on. 

“Make. Me,” Lance shot back with equal enunciation. 

Before Keith could reply, Lance shot out from under him, and the two tumbled until Lance came out on top. He had rotated their positions so Keith was held down instead, his hands pinned above him. They had rolled so much that both their entire suits were covered in luminous plant pigment and not just Lance’s. Above him, the mix of glimmering colors gave Lance an ethereal glow that made Keith’s heart pound. 

To make matters worse, Lance wasn’t hovering like Keith had been. His undivided weight was pressing down on him, preventing Keith from gaining any ground. He was forced to resort to squirming, but Keith didn’t give in. Best case scenario, tempting Lance any further would result in a heart attack, and Keith wouldn’t have to worry about exacerbating the current situation. 

A familiar, cold dampness hit the bridge of Keith’s nose, trailing down his cheek. Lance’s gaze locked with his, and Keith watched the vengeful sadness swimming behind the wet blue. Opening his mouth in attempts of soothing Lance was cut short, as Lance’s grip on one of his wrists tightened painfully. Keith gasped at the sudden constriction.

The boy above him leaned down and more tears fell with the abrupt motion. Loathing was pungent in Lance’s expression. Whether it was aimed at his own tears or Keith, the lucid hatred was impossible to miss. If his hands weren’t being restricted, Keith would have reached out to him. His heart pounded painfully against his chest for an entirely different reason now. 

It hurt seeing Lance like this. 

“ _Why?_ ” Lance yelled, and Keith winced at the intensity. “Why can’t _I_ be enough?” 

Keith huffed out his vexation, shaking his head as much as he could. “Lance, you’re not making any sense… you’re not useless” he said, using the words Lance had used back in Blue’s cockpit. “You’re more than enough.” His statements only added to Lance’s anger. 

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“Then what _are_ you talking about?” 

“You, Keith!” he shouted, voice raw. “I’m talking about _you_!”

Their loud back-and-forth skipped a beat, as Keith’s ability to formulate words had hastily vaporized into thin air. Keith couldn’t find his voice. Talking seemed too far off a possibility to even consider. Then, without his volition, his voice spoke for him. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he heard himself whisper. 

“Of course you don’t.” Lance scoffed, a sound void of amusement. “You may have been top of the class back at the Garrison, but you know nothing.” 

Keith needed to take a step back. There was clearly something here, but he couldn’t yet make it out. Since Keith couldn’t literally get a new perspective, he decided to retrace his metaphorical steps. With a weak intake of breath, Keith implored himself to speak with patience. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, hoping he sounded comforting. Knowing his luck, Lance would think he was a condescending jerk who was teasing him for having emotions. He hoped, for once, things would just play out in his favor. 

“I’m n—“ Lance sniffed, forced to retract his lie. He seemed to struggle with his words, as if they were made of sandpaper. “Because of Shiro.” 

Keith internally jolted a bit. Out of all the answers he hadn’t thought of, this one didn’t even exist in his mental peripheral. For good reason too. 

“What?” 

“Because…” Lance started carefully, preparing to elaborate. “I know how you… _feel_ about Shiro… and it’s just really frustrating when—“ Keith was shaking his head again, looking up at Lance with immense confusion, and interrupted him. 

“What?” Keith repeated. “What do you—“ he stopped, narrowing his eyes, purposefully slowing down his words. “How do you think I feel about Shiro?” Lance blinked, expression blank, before his automatic response followed. 

“Well, I wasn’t sure before but…” Lance muttered quietly. “You like Shiro, right?” 

Keith just wanted to stare at him in disbelief. He would have too, silently mocking the pure stupidity leaving Lance’s lips if it wasn’t for the serum. Now Lance wasn’t an idiot—he may act like one at times, and though he’s no Pidge or Hunk, he had come up with his own share of good ideas more than once. So the fact that Lance really _was_ this oblivious shocked him more than any surprise attack from the Galra he had ever faced. 

“Oh my god, Lance, no,” Keith told him firmly. “Sure we’re close, but he’s like a brother to me.” 

“That’s a lie,” he snorted. Keith found himself gaping at Lance more often than not in this conversation, and it was beginning to tick him off. Lance’s ignorance was nearly tipping Keith over the edge into confessing—just to shut him up. 

“I’m not sure if you’ve _noticed_ , McClain,” Keith replied, losing his hold on a thin line of patience. “But _I literally cannot lie_.” For a moment, Keith truly believed he had struck gold, finally gaining _some_ leverage in this absurd conversation. 

Then his mind connected the dots. 

_Why can’t I be enough?_ his mind echoed Lance’s words. 

Lance didn’t get worked up over anything unless it really meant something to him. Thus meaning that the idea of Keith liking Shiro was true nightmare fuel in Lance’s eyes. Maybe Lance didn’t hate him _anymore_ , but he had before. 

_Because of Shiro,_ Keith’s mind echoed as Lance, finishing the thought. Keith had long gone cold; the chill was so intense he nearly forgot the warmth Lance emanated from on top of him. 

“Do you…” Keith found himself speaking before his inhibitions could hold him back. “Do you like… _someone_?” 

He wanted to be careful with his word choice. Keith already knew who this someone would be, and the moment wide, blue eyes met his, Keith knew he had been right. There was no need to hear Lance’s answer, but he knew it was coming whether deemed necessary it or not. 

“Yes,” Lance replied with immediate conviction. Keith’s heart fell through his chest and buried itself into the ground below, leaving his once rapidly beating chest void and frigid. Lance looked terrified, dropping Keith’s wrists and bringing his arms back. Pulling away a bit, yet remaining on top of Keith, Lance looked away. 

It hurt when Keith smiled. 

With space to move, Keith pushed himself up using his elbows, before bringing himself up in a sitting position. Lance was straddling his lap rather than pinning him down now, but there was no heart to be flustered from the acknowledgment. Instead, a crumpled emptiness had taken its place. 

_I knew this from the start,_ he chided. _Lance even said how he felt, but I never thought…_

Lance was right to have used his first truth to call him an idiot. 

Despite the internal throb of self-contempt, Keith couldn’t push Lance away and indulge his anger. Instead, he reached out, knowing Lance would think nothing of him taking Lance’s face into his hands. He hated that Lance wouldn’t look at him—that Lance probably knew Keith’s obvious secret the way Keith now knew his. 

Gingerly gliding the pads of his thumbs into Lance’s cheeks, Keith shifted Lance’s focus back onto him. It took long, stretched-out moments for Lance to gradually return his gaze to meet Keith’s but when he did, Keith made sure to maintain his faux smile. It was fine after all. He had prepared for this since the beginning, and he wouldn’t let his hands or his voice shake. 

“Lance… it’s okay,” Keith hummed, rubbing light, hopefully palliative circles into tan skin. “Really, it’s fine, it doesn’t change anything… you’re still you.” Lance stared at him with a mystified aura of awe that made his clench tighten. 

_No, stop,_ he yelled at himself. _He needs you right now, not your bullshit._

“You… don't mind?” Lance asked, eyes no longer wide from horror. The relief was as palpable as the glow of the plants around them. 

Keith shook his head. “I don’t mind,” he replied. It wasn’t a lie. The reality of Lance liking Shiro wasn’t what bothered him. It was the fact that Keith had let himself entertain the idea that he stood a chance. 

He let his thumbs rise above Lance’s cheekbones, wiping away any remaining tears with small, sympathetic movements. Keith needed to seal the deal. If anything, he at least wanted Lance to be happy and as worry-free as possible. 

“You know, I can help if you want,” Keith said, quiet but strong.

Lance went silent, watching him with a furrowed brow, as if analyzing his features in search of an unsaid response. An abrupt, booming noise followed, and Keith didn’t recognize the laughter until Lance had raised his own hands to Keith’s wrists, pulling them down into his lap. To Keith’s confusion, his laughter wasn’t bitter either, rather it was honest, amused laughter rising deep from Lance’s gut. 

“I don’t—“ Lance squeezed out between chuckles. “I don’t think you can help me with this.” He returned Keith’s smile, the only difference being his was genuine. “I’ll get over it though, don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried,” he replied instantaneously. “I don’t mind either way.” His conviction wrought out another full-bellied laugh from the blue paladin. The sight made Keith really smile. 

Lance shifted above him, finally moving off Keith in favor of standing. He offered Keith his hand, and Keith hesitated before he took it. When Lance pulled him up, neither withdrew, leaving their hands entwined. It was eerily similar to a certain, ‘forgotten’ moment, in which only their positions had been switched. 

“So,” Lance began, clearing his throat. He failed to address their joint hands as he went on. It shouldn’t have made Keith’s stomach twinge with pain, but did nonetheless. “What did Shiro want to talk about anyway?” 

Keith was struck with the fleeting statement their team leader told him before walking off. He had forgotten about it entirely until now—not even taking note of it in the moment. Though it hadn’t been a big deal, he was filled with a reasonable sense of guilt for forgetting Shiro’s orders. 

“Oh, he mostly told me off for the whole duct tape idea,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the variety of colors flattened beneath his boots. “But he did want to round us all up because Allura called a meeting. I said I’d bring you back to the castle so Shiro could save time and go straight to finding Hunk and Pidge.” 

Lance nodded in his peripheral, though he did not move. Keith did the same. Both paladins stared anywhere and everywhere but each other, remaining still in the meadow, stained with the light of the dozens of smashed plants they had left in their wake. 

“Okay!” Lance said, a significant tad louder than normal. He took a step forward, towards the direction of the cobblestone road, and Keith stumbled after him. “We better get going then.” 

Keith didn’t respond. He allowed himself to be dragged through Amora’s unkept nature, solely focused on his own hand. Rather than gawk at the hand connected to it, his eyes were on the bracelet hanging loosely off his wrist. Lance’s had disappeared, he noticed, but his own had performed a much more remarkable magic trick. 

It was glowing. 

At first glance, Keith surmised it was more stains from the flora behind them. With further inspection, however, he realized the singular, rich hue was coming from the plaited metal itself. He wondered if Lance had taken notice as well, but from the way he focused on the road straight ahead, Keith guessed that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t very taken by the idea of informing Lance, either. 

In the end, Keith remained alone in his gawking. His feet followed blindly as he witnessed the bright light dance across his wrist, and eventually fan out across Lance’s curled fingers. Red paired against blue may not have been a combination in his favor, but Keith could certainly appreciate the glowing mixture his bracelet had graced him with. 

After all, he found purple to be a very calming color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and in the end, only you, the reader, will understand the true meaning behind the color Keith saw  
> oh don’t u _love_ dramatic irony? :)
> 
> fun fact: the amor in _Amor_ ai is Latin for “love.” i thought it fit best because each love the Amorai mentioned, like pragma, eros, etc. are all different kinds of loves in Latin  
> it’s also the same in Spanish, and Portuguese, apparently. so there’s that.  
> ur welcome.


	10. you’ve got to be kidding me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is such a mood this chapter tbh
> 
> also, i’m sorry for being so absent for so long, but i will update and finish this fic. i’ve finally gotten back into posting again, so consider this a little holiday gift :)

Lance was not okay.

Frankly, he was very, very far from it. 

Callidus had ripped him off—or the bracelets didn’t work on humans the way it worked on Amorai. Either way, Lance had messed up once again. This time, though, it was infinitely worse, as Keith had figured out Lance’s feelings, and the result was nothing if not unsurprising. 

Keith didn’t feel the same. 

He had purposefully asked Lance _if_ he liked someone, rather than _who_. The reasoning behind his decision wasn’t difficult to infer either. Keith had already known the answer to who Lance liked, he just wanted to confirm Lance _did_ in fact like him. 

Lance had always pictured himself confessing dramatically, expressing his affection with a boisterous, feigned confidence to cover up his shy smile. The last outcome he wanted or expected was it to be an accident. Yet, even when his worst fears came to light, Keith kept surprising him. Rather than disgusted or horrified, Keith had quite literally taken Lance into his arms. 

_Hell, I was sitting in his lap._

Heat struck his cheeks, and he continued withholding his gaze from Keith’s. He couldn’t bring himself to look at that sweet, accepting smile. There was no sense for it; Keith was supposed to hate him for this. Lance hated himself for it, but Keith acted like it was no big deal. 

_Maybe you don’t even mean enough for him to care,_ a self-deprecating corner of his mind whispered. He couldn’t let himself believe that. Keith was supporting him, he was holding his hand, and Lance wouldn’t allow his self-pity belittle that. 

They were still walking back, and Lance felt a mixture of wanting to reach the castle faster fighting against the need to slow down. The longer it took to reach the others, the longer time he could hold Keith’s hand. It wouldn’t last, and the gesture was selfish, but this was all he would ever have—and even _that_ was fleeting. 

The once endless streets and booths they had gotten lost exploring was diminishing at a worrying pace. Before Lance could commit each feature and crevice to memory, Keith had tentatively pulled away. They were back at the castle. For the rest of their walk to the control room, Keith walked side by side with him, though making sure to keep his distance. It made his chest clench, but he understood. 

“Ah, good,” a voice called ahead. Lance’s gaze snapped up to meet Shiro, who had just turned to face Allura. “You may start the ship, princess, I’ll fill them in during liftoff.” 

In his peripherals, Lance watched the red boy—paladin. _Curse you Callidus._ The red paladin—tense up in their leader’s presence. Though Keith respected Shiro the most as well as had the closest bond to him, he also desired to impress Shiro the most. 

“Shiro, what’s wrong?” Keith asked, seeming to calm. Keith was still tense, Lance knew, but he was focused, which tended to override his concerns. “Why are we leaving so soon?” 

“We received another transmission,” answered Shiro. The statement itself wasn’t foreboding, as they dealt with transmissions constantly. It was Shiro’s dour expression that managed to chill the ends of Lance’s frayed emotions. 

_I need to concentrate._ They all had their own issues, but at times like these Lance couldn’t let his problems overwhelm him. There was too much at stake if he made a mistake here. With a halting exhale, he brought himself to speak. 

“ _Another?_ ” Lance echoed. 

“It’s from the I’virans again,” Pidge chipped in, taking a direct step into the conversation. With a flat expression and dubious, glinting eyes, she went on. “This time it came directly from their Princess.”

“Iliana?” Keith said, frowning. “That’s weird.” 

“That’s what I said!” Pidge exclaimed. Her voice rose in near immediate reply. “Why would they have the Princess of all people send the message?” Keith shook his head, meeting her eye. 

“No, I’m not referring to her status,” Keith clarified. “I mean… her father was very protective of her, so Iliana getting her hands on a transmission device is…” 

“Far-fetched,” Pidge completed. The burst of victory had gone, leaving more questions in its wake than answers. “The situation must be pretty bad then, huh?” She turned to face Shiro. “Do we know any details yet?”

“Actually, we do,” Shiro said. His attention snapped to Keith, and there was urging look underneath his solemn expression. _Just another thing I don’t understand._ “Speaking of, Keith, you should get cleaned up, since you’re doing this mission solo. She asked for you specifically, so you must have really left a mark on her.” Keith cringed from discomfort; it was the exact opposite reaction Lance would have in his shoes, for sure. 

“ _Ah,_ ” Keith’s voice cracked, warranting a muted snicker from Pidge. He threw her a dark look that eventually dissolved, and simply groaned in response. “This is stupid. How are we even sure there’s actually an emergency?”

“We don’t. That’s why we agreed to only sending you,” Shiro answered. “Apparently she doesn’t want us drawing attention to ourselves, so subtlety is our friend.” One lion was immensely less overt than all of Voltron, as well as the entire castle. Despite agreeing with Shiro’s sentiment, Lance didn’t like the idea of Keith going by himself. Though he trusted Keith, if the situation twisted out of their favor, Keith was the worst choice when it came to diplomacy. 

_I do want to distance myself from him so I can deal with… the turnout of my semi-confession,_ Lance admitted to himself. _But not at the cost of endangering Keith._

“I think someone should go with him anyway,” Lance said, drawing surprise from the others, particularly Keith. “The very reason that we don’t know the situation is reason enough.” He scanned Shiro’s and Pidge’s reactions, tactfully ignoring Keith as he raised a brow. 

“You offering?” Keith asked. If Lance hadn’t heard the sincerity of his tone himself, he would have supposed Keith was mocking him. 

“No,” Lance shot back. It was a bit too caustic, and crossing his arms over his chest didn’t help, but he did so regardless. The other paladins watched the interaction from the sidelines, interested and not wanting to interrupt. The not-so-surreptitious glances made Lance feel like an animal in an alien zoo; it was as if the others saw him as some foreign being impossible to understand. 

“We’re allied with the I’virans, what reason would they have for tricking us?” Pidge argued. Lance opened his mouth to respond, his uncertainty fueling his automatic response system. 

“I… don’t know,” Lance muttered, letting his gaze fall to his feet. He wouldn’t let himself say he felt unnerved—let alone _worried._

“Then it’s settled,” Shiro concluded, his hand motioning for Keith to walk with him. “I need to talk to you before we get there, Keith. Come with me.” 

Lance refused to give a parting look to Keith as the duo left the control room. When he did look up, Pidge had not only remained beside him, but had dared to move closer, as if inspecting his actions. Lance nearly jolted in place. 

“So…” Pidge dragged out the single syllable. “Did something happen?” 

—

Shiro had more or less been dragged Keith along, refusing to break the monastic silence. A deeper statement lingered than just talking about the upcoming solo mission. He wanted Keith to talk to him; it was clear something went wrong after he had left Keith and Lance alone. 

_What a surprise._

Despite his frustration for the duo, Shiro did regret taking away the duct tape. Though he may resent the way Keith tiptoed around Lance and vice versa, he knew they would find their way with time. It was poetic irony in a way, as Shiro persistently reminded Keith that ‘patience yields focus,’ yet he couldn’t handle Keith’s complete obliviousness. 

“I’m guessing you two finally talked,” Shiro said, making sure to form his words as a statement rather than a question. He wouldn’t force this. In the end, the issues of their relationship were not Shiro’s to fix—but then again, there were no rules against helpful shoves. 

Very supportive, long-awaited shoves in the right direction. 

“I… I really don’t want to talk about it, Shiro,” Keith admitted quietly. Shiro had stopped wandering, as they had put decent distance between themselves and the others. He watched as Keith avoided eye contact, his gaze flickering down the hall they had come and to the floor below. “I promise I will once… I get over it.”

The downcast gaze combined with utterly destroyed disappointment threw Shiro for a loop. He knew there were miscommunications between the red and blue paladins, but he had never imagined how far it could go. There was definitely something amiss. Before anything, he would need to know if confessions were involved. 

“Does he know how you feel?” 

“No, but…” Keith trailed off, biting his lip. “I know how _he_ feels.” Buds of confusion could only blossom in response, leaving Shiro frowning. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze.

“You’re not happy?” 

“What?” Keith asked, meeting Shiro’s gaze to express offense. “How the _hell_ would the truth make me happy?” 

“Because now you know he likes you,” Shiro stated, simply and honestly. Rather than comfort his friend, it only seemed to aggravate his attitude, as Keith proceeded to groan. 

“All of you are so _frustrating,_ ” Keith said, exasperated. “He doesn’t like _me,_ he likes—“ Once again, Keith’s eyes met his. Wide, purple shades stared into him, before hastily looking away. 

“Keith.”

“No.”

“ _Keith._ ”

“Shiro, I,” Keith forced the words, rushing a dirtied glove through unkempt hair. “I can’t tell you. Especially not you.” Any shred of sense continued to evade Shiro, but at least he was getting closer to a solid answer. 

“Why not me?” he asked. There was clear discomfort in Keith’s posture, but Shiro couldn’t look back now. If Keith lost the boy he cared for all because of a few misconstrued words and shared obliviousness, Shiro would never forgive himself. Expressly since he could have done something to change it. 

“Because you’re the one he likes,” Keith blurted. Embarrassed red tormented his face, each word leaving his lips darkening the bright hue. “I wasn’t… supposed to tell you that,” he completed, shame-faced. 

First came the moment of anticipation, where Shiro expected to be victim to Keith’s first ever joke, but Keith didn’t falter. It wasn’t an act. The sincere contrite in his expression brought Shiro to his next conclusion. 

_My brother is an absolute idiot._

“You can’t… I…” Shiro started, unable to finish his thought. He brought a pained hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “ _How?_ How do you come up with this stuff? I just—I don’t _understand._ ” 

“I didn’t!” Keith shot back, his voice rising to match his temper. “He told me so himself!” Shiro didn’t hesitate to raise a brow at that.

“Lance said that?” he asked. “Explicitly?”

“Well, no…” Keith muttered. “But I know I’m right because of… his wording, like, uh, subtext.” Each shred of confidence was torn from Keith the more he spoke. It was evident to Shiro that he had no idea what he was talking about—not like he ever did when it came to Lance.

“Sub— _subtext?_ ” Shiro said, allowing himself a hefty groan. “Keith, I will never understand how you were top of your class.” When it came down to it, Shiro couldn’t blame him. He had never been a socialite to begin with, and spending a year alone in the desert didn’t do much to change that fact. He clearly hadn’t taken Shiro’s comment the way he had hoped. 

“Wow, thanks, but a bit late,” Keith deadpanned. “Lance already informed me I’m an idiot, and if I remember right, you were there to hear it. Everyone was.” 

He had turned to leave when Shiro reached out to stop him. His substitute hand was quick to fall from Keith’s shoulder, however, as the teen completely shrugged him off. With a strong push forward, Keith had pressed by him, head held down. 

“Keith,” Shiro begun, tone stern. It had been an efficient technique as of far at getting Keith’s attention, particularly when he was being stubborn. Although Keith huffed, he didn’t stop, nor slow his hasty gait. “ _Wait,_ talk to me.” Keith turned in a single, vibrant movement to meet Shiro’s last attempt at consoling him head-on. With a raw look of frustration, he spoke in a voice that bellied his glare. Rather than raise his voice as Shiro had come to expect, the red paladin spoke with an eerie quiet about him. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t force me to answer any more questions,” he spoke under a cold breath. “After all, I have a very important solo mission to get ‘cleaned up’ for.”

Keith had gone to leave before he could get another word in edgewise, leaving Voltron’s leader equally as frustrated. If he couldn’t get through to Keith, he would have to prove him wrong; he needed someone who dealt with data in a coherent, indisputable manner. Shiro knew someone who fit the bill just right. 

Heading back the direction he came, he was aware he should attempt getting Lance’s side of recent events too. He made a mental note to find Lance after locating a certain devious gremlin. For once, he appreciated her antics, as they would actually serve useful in further bringing the team together. 

Since Pidge’s room was located closer to the control room in comparison to the others, Shiro overshot the walk. He broke from thought just in time to catch himself passing her door. Not wanting to stall but not wanting to be impolite, Shiro rapped on the metal. He had surmised he would need to knock more than once to grab her attention— _I hope Lance is still borrowing her headphones_ —muted voices broke out, followed by the shuffling of feet. 

The metal hissed as it broke down the middle, smoothly splitting apart to reveal Pidge. A few feet behind her, sitting criss-cross on the floor, sat Lance. Both looked pleasantly surprised to see him, as if expecting someone else. Whatever the case, he had both the people he needed gathered together in a single room. Shiro nearly let out an audible sigh of relief. 

_The gods of convenience have blessed me today._

“You,” Shiro stated, pointed an accusatory finger at the blue paladin. “We need to talk.”

With that, Pidge slinked across the room to sit on her mess of a bed, and Shiro wasted no time in moving to stand closer. Lance shot Pidge a violated glare, receiving a smug raise of her shoulders in return. Making a tight cross over his chest and pouting, Lance looked up at Shiro and resigned to a sigh. 

“Listen, I’m sure Keith told you what happened,” Lance mumbled, his eyes wandering Pidge’s mess of a room. Shiro wished he could will his gaze to meet his own, but there were far too many places for blue eyes to occupy. “So if you’re here to tell me off, I’ve already hit my all-time low. I don’t need you to remind me how uncomfortable I made Keith.” 

Shiro paused. Bluntness in this situation would be a hammer to fine china, so he would have to take his questions slow. Like always, there was a clear divide between both boys’ interpretation of their conversation. Casual frustration arose, an annoying but informative friend— _Slav_ —that made him want to pull out the paucity of hair he had left. He refrained from blurting out his exasperation, but couldn’t prevent himself from speaking out with a particular edge. 

“Lance, what do you think he told me?” Shiro asked. There was no interruption from Pidge besides an intrigued hum. 

Shiro couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t one to involve himself in others’ internal affairs, especially when it came to teen drama. He had always been the one to stop the issue rather than solve it. The solution was left up to those actually involved. 

_But this,_ he reminded himself. _This is different. These two can’t solve it themselves._

“That he figured out I like him,” answered Lance. The immediate response set off a domino effect. Bright crimson burst and spread throughout his cheeks, any bravado replaced by a strong sense of sheepishness. Pidge snorted, watching the scene unfold with utter amusement. 

“Pidge!” Lance blurted.

“Hey, I didn’t ask the question,” she said. Her apathy and complete lack of shame spurred Lance on further.

“How are you not surprised?” he shot back, his voice rising. Pidge snorted once more. 

“ _Surprised?_ ” she asked. “Dude, I called this from the very beginning. I would’ve made another bet with Hunk too if he hadn’t agreed with me.” Lance dropped his gaze, doing a poor job of hiding his horror.

“So… so it was obvious… Keith didn’t just figure it out then. He’s known,” Lance muttered. He suddenly looked up at Shiro, eyes fierce and fresh with torn emotion. “You came here to rub it in?” 

_So they’re both oblivious. Not like that was a surprise either._ Shiro sighed to himself. _I still have to be careful about this though. I can’t let my frustrations get the best of me._

“Lance,” he started off sternly. “You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong.” Lance’s hardened gaze faltered but prevailed. How he believed his own doubts and confusions over the truth, Shiro would never know.

“That Keith knew?” he asked. 

“That’s the thing, Lance. Keith _doesn’t_ know,” Shiro explained, putting clear and sincere emphasis on each word. Although he desperately wanted to speak on Keith’s behalf, Keith’s confession wasn’t his to say—even if it would be easier that way. He wouldn’t do that to him. 

“I don’t know how you fail to communicate with every single interaction,” he went on, watching Lance open and close his mouth like a fish out of water. “Especially when you can only speak _truths,_ but you somehow manage. So I kindly suggest you sit down with him and figure this out, or else I’m going to do more than get involved.” 

“Fucking finally,” Pidge said under her breath. 

“Language,” Shiro replied, his eyes leaving Lance to berate her. She threw back a flat look in return, but didn’t retaliate. 

_Progress._

“Listen, I don’t get why you guys want me to make the situation worse and embarrass myself further—“

“Oh my _god,_ we don’t, you—“ Pidge tried, but Lance was more than ready to return her gesture of cutting him off. The sole reason Shiro felt grateful was because he wouldn’t have to scold her cursing again. 

“But I’m not interested,” Lance finished. He stood up, making a motion towards the door, but Shiro readily stepped between him and his exit. Lance kept his ground, a clenched fist at each side as he glared onward. “I’m trying to make this easier for Keith, I thought you of all people would appreciate that.” 

“Making it easier for him?” Shiro scoffed. He couldn’t hold back his budding frustrations, especially when Lance wasn’t of the same mind. “Like you would know that, with the way you’re totally misinterpreting him.”

“Whatever.” Lance sidestepped, curving around Shiro to reach the door. “I know what I’m talking about.” 

On instinct, Shiro’s hand shot out to grab his upper arm. The boy jolted for a moment before reverting to his faux cool. With a sharp tug, Lance attempted to pull away, but earned a stronger grip in return. 

“Do you?” Shiro asked. Questions were dangerous, and though he had been cautious with wording before, this was a last ditch effort. He needed Lance to see, or at the very least try to understand. With a moment to buffer, Lance gave a final, sharp tug and Shiro let go. 

“I…” Lance was in a visible effort against himself and the truth, despite his focused, shielded look. Before a coherent response could leave him, Lance muttered his answer in Spanish.

An uncomfortable flare in Shiro’s gut urged him to push the issue, to say what everyone was knew. Lance didn’t give him the chance. With a resigned look, he pushed forward to the door, but Shiro noticed. There was hesitation there, in the blue, and he had to make one final attempt before Lance walked away. 

“Just knock on his door,” Shiro said, the words in sync with the hissing of the mechanical, sliding door. “That’s all I ask. Just knock.” With his back turned, Shiro heard no response but the door closing with a crisp hiss. 

Shiro and Pidge let out sighs in exasperated union. The elder paladin sank down beside the other, leaning his head back against the wall’s hard, smooth surface. The idea of dealing with this every day made his nerves tingle with the need to punch something with his good hand. Physical pain was infinitely easier to deal with than the oblivion of two love-struck teens.

“It’s like talking to a brick wall,” Shiro said. Pidge gave a soft sound of agreement. “He disregards everything I say and the stuff he does acknowledge he takes with the barest grain of salt.” 

“Actually, I think a brick wall would be much more attentive.”

“I don’t get it,” he continued, spilling out his irritation. “Why can’t he trust us?”

“It’s not that he doesn’t trust us, he just doesn’t want to trust himself. Mainly his feelings,” Pidge said. “It’s trying for him to show he cares.”

“Yet he flirts with any alien that will give him the time of day.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different,” she acknowledged. “For him it’s more out of personal enjoyment than anything. I doubt he believes it’ll go anywhere, so he doesn’t take it seriously to begin with.” 

The two fell silent, and rather than keep up the conversation, Pidge reached for her computer. As she began typing away, he watched, realizing Pidge had been involved in this for a very long time. Perhaps the teenage angst between the two boys wasn’t as bad before as it was now, but the fact that she remained concerned and helpful was a feat in and of itself. 

“How does your mind not spontaneously implode around them?” Shiro found himself asking. With a sympathetic chuckle, Pidge smiled at him.

“I mean, I’ve made mistakes,” she told him. “Like when we first tried the serum, and I suggested playing truth or dare. I’m supposed to be there to help when needed, not force them into admitting things that make them uncomfortable.” She paused, her hands hovering for a moment before clacking away again. “I’ve come to terms with knowing they’ll figure it out in due time though.” 

The pressing of keys faded with the realization that the whole truth serum matter had only existed for a few days. The paradox of so much and so little happening at once was a bit of a smack in the face. The endless cycles of miscommunication felt like it had lasted for so much longer than reality. Memories unfurled like a roll of Keith’s duct tape, his mind running through the past few days until one moment stuck. 

“ _The dinner,_ ” Shiro gasped. With everything going on, he had put it off as Keith-and-Lance antics. “I genuinely can’t believe they’re real people. No one—let alone _two_ —could be so fucking dense.” The explicative escaped him before he could reel himself in. 

_Shit._

His gaze snapped to a halting Pidge, an impish grin spreading across the entire lower half of her face. She slowly looked to him as he opened his mouth to form a ‘wait,’ but she refused to let him take this away from her. 

“ _Language,_ ” she tutted. The amusement pressed another sigh out of Shiro, but at least it had been the first to not come from Lance’s or Keith’s cluelessness. He hoped they could work it out before everything really took a turn for the worse. 

—

Despite the surprising opposition from the rest on the ship, Keith never relinquished his preference for the floor over a bed. He didn't care much for the aspect of comfort as much as he did the stability of sitting on the floor. Sleeping was another matter however, as he knew his back would suffer without a soft buffer between him and the floor. 

But today was different.

After cleaning up, Keith had sat in silence on his bed, gaze switching between his unsheathed blade and the ceiling. Throughout the duration of the trip, no one bothered him. He suspected Shiro might come by to check on him again, but was grateful he had probably been too busy to bother him. 

The others always talked about how eerily quiet space was, but Keith never understood it. He didn’t mind noise. Even so, after spending a year out in the desert alone, the silence had conditioned him into finding comfort in the lack of a sense. 

_Just another part of me that separates me from everyone else,_ he thought with ill humor. 

A soft, delicate sound broke him away from his thoughts. It almost mirrored the sound of rapping against a door, but Keith was sure he had imagined it. If someone had knocked, it would be Shiro, and he knocked to be heard. Despite his dismissiveness, he took an abrupt stand from his bed. The bed frame creaked with the sudden release of weight and Keith flinched at the sound. It wasn’t inherently loud, but in this quiet it rang throughout the room. 

The sound failed to return, leaving him in silence once more. No footsteps followed, eventually leading Keith to believe he really had imagined it all. Even if he had been wrong, it didn’t matter. Moments standing in silence shifted when Allura’s voice rang clearly over the coms. 

“Paladins, convene at the control room as soon as possible.” Her voice seemed sharper than usual. “Do not dilly-dally.” 

Keith sprung into action, his assumptions turned away. He had a job to do. Pressing out from his room and into an empty hall, he raced down to inevitably meet the others. There was only one thing about this mission that bothered him. Logically Keith _had_ spent the most time around Iliana, saved her life even, but that should have enabled her to trust the rest of his team. 

_Maybe not._ Keith retracted his doubts. 

It wasn’t a reach to assume she believed the rest of the team was different from him—and after Lance arrived to help, Keith couldn’t blame her. In retrospect, though, there was a moment that struck him as odd. He hadn’t noticed at first, but after Lance had convinced King Ivor Keith couldn’t marry, his shock had gotten the best of him. He hadn’t noticed Iliana’s disappearance in the blur of it all. 

_So I can still safely call this weird._

Entering the control room, Keith noticed Allura was no longer piloting the castle, clueing him in that they had arrived. Across the deck she was beside the other paladins, all of which were dressed in armor, as if preparing to join him. Even Lance was there, his blue armor no longer caked with mud from Amora. 

_Maybe Allura changed her mind,_ he thought hopefully. Even so, he still wanted to raise his concerns. 

“Allura,” Keith said, his helmet tucked underneath his arm. Everyone turned to face him—everyone but Lance. He let it go; he had a mission to do now. Whatever Lance was mad at him for now could wait. It had to. 

“Perfect timing,” she hummed. “So Iliana has requested you meet her outside her kingdom.” 

“In the middle of the desert?” Keith clarified. His suspicions only grew, drawing his brows together. “It makes no sense, a princess leaving the protection of her castle?” 

“Maybe there’s some internal affair and she doesn’t feel safe,” Hunk supplied with a shrug. Keith frowned as his suspicions fell apart. 

“Well, last time I was there her subjects did look down on her,” Keith admitted.

“Literally.” Lance’s voice was strong despite being the furthest one away from Keith. Not expecting any comments from the blue paladin, his curiosity pulled his gaze to meet Lance’s. “No wonder she was so desperate to marry you. You two have so much in common.” 

Keith didn’t know what he expected. He had become accustomed to the bickering; it had become one of the only ways he could really communicate with Lance, even if it did tend to end in a fistfight or shriveled ego. The truth serum hadn’t changed any of that, but somehow, it felt disingenuous to their growth. Even if it had shattered his hopes of something more than a forgotten bonding moment, he had gotten so much more in return. Lance had opened up about his insecurities for just a moment in Blue, danced with him on a floor that glowed beneath them, and even admitted he had a crush. So for the first time when Keith felt uneasy about going it alone, he had hoped for at least a little support, but, like always, Lance was a world away. 

“A bit conceited for someone who only has an inch over me,” Keith said. His questioning frown had flattened out with his response. Instead, he shot Lance a minimal glare. He had been through enough today and wasn’t interested in pushing his bad luck. 

“Oh I have _much_ more than an inch over you where it matters,” Lance riposted. 

“So that means you _did_ take up Keith’s offer at dinner a few days ago,” Pidge said, too pleased with herself to hide her suggestive tone. 

“Pidge!” Shiro said. It was too late. Keith’s cheeks were warming to match the color of his polished armor. Though it was implicit that her comment was groundless, it was still embarrassing. 

“What?” she asked without a hint of shame. “You call me out but not Lance? He’s barely a year older!” 

“Excuse me,” Lance interrupted. In a dramatic gesture, he smacked his hand against his chest plate in mock offense. “It’s a two years’ difference, thank you.” 

“Not in terms of mental maturity,” Pidge said, smirking.

“Paladins!” Allura’s clear-cut voice shredded through the team’s bickering. The tension remained, but the teasing comments tapered off. “Waste your own time, not mine and certainly not the princess’s.” She turned to face Keith once more. “You ready?” In a last ditch effort to calm his uneasy intuition, Keith didn’t settle for a nod. 

“I’m not sure about this.” He expected his concerns to come out mumbled and uncertain, but was grateful to find a strength to his words. “I’m not one for plans but I feel like we need a backup, just in case.” 

“Didn’t know girls scared you so much, mullet,” Lance said. The statement was on the edge of a sneer, but to Keith it came off as empty. He was trying hard to publicly announce he didn’t care. 

_Why?_ Keith couldn’t understand. _He knows I know how he feels, so who is he doing this for if not me?_

“Actually,” Hunk said, interjecting. “I think Keith makes a valid point. We don’t know what we’re up against, and it doesn’t help that the princess was vague about the issue. At the very least we could monitor the situation through his helmet and tune in on his mic.” 

“They _are_ still in contact with the Galra, princess,” Shiro added. “The King might have agreed to a treaty but we don’t know about his subjects. If they ambush Keith they could use it as evidence that we’re not strong enough to protect them.”

“Then we lose a powerful ally that would only add to the forces of the Galra army,” Allura finished, a grim look overtaking her features. 

“I could watch the radar,” Pidge said. She had preemptively brought out a flat, rectangular device, as if knowing there would be a consensus. “If there’s any I’viran movement on their planet I’ll spot it before they can get the jump on Keith.” 

“Then it’s decided,” Allura concluded, clasping her hands together. “Keith, do be cautious, but not enough to raise alarm. Find out why she called you, and if it takes a turn for the worse, we’ll pull you out.” 

“And we’ll be able to see and hear everything you do, so you don’t have to worry about filling us in,” Hunk added with a comforting smile. “Just concentrate on the mission.” 

With a solid plan in place, the team got to work. Keith had to go down with Red immediately, as Allura reminded him the situation an emergency, and he had no reason to stay anyway. Within minutes he had touched base with the powdery sand of I’vira, securing his helmet one last time before exiting Red. 

Iliana was standing mere feet away from where he landed, her expression unreadable. Her father’s kingdom was a gleaming speck on the horizon behind her. The question of how she had gotten here arose until he had taken notice of a vehicle a good distance away. The sleek mental and constant hum of the hover bike reminded him a good deal of his own back on Earth—the only thing he missed besides his shack. 

Halting in front of the I’viran princess, his muscles came to a slow unwind. He wasn’t alone. Plus, now that he was here, he was starting to realize he had nothing to be so paranoid about to begin with. Iliana seemed more thankful for his presence than anything, so perhaps everything that was going on with Lance just threw his gut instinct for a loop. 

“Princess Iliana,” Keith greeted, maintaining a professional tone. After all, Shiro was listening and would scold him later if he had foregone formalities. “Why did you call me here?” 

He gave her body quick scan, searching for any signs of injury. He found none. What he did discover, however, was that she wore pale, simple clothes, nothing like the ornate wear royalty tended to dress in. With a purpose of camouflage in the great sand dunes, it was apparent she was here against her father’s wishes. 

“Red Knight,” she spoke with a force that would have echoed inside the chambers of her castle, but in the desert the syllables were tugged and torn by the strong wind. “First and foremost, I wanted to apologize for my rudeness. If I had known you were taken…”

“Oh,” Keith said. The words tumbled in his mouth, buffering. “Oh, no, it’s fine, really. It’s my fault. I should’ve said something.” Iliana gave the softest upturn of a smile.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said, not unkindly. “I can only hope you and your blue paladin have a good life together.” 

Keith feels his core body temperature jump a few double digits, and it had nothing to do with the flaming heat of the desert. No, he had been too well acquainted with that kind of heat. This was something that made his heart constrict and his ears steam. 

“U-uhm, we’re not… we’re not together,” Keith admitted. No matter how strong the urge to look away became, he did not break eye contact. Rather than be dismissive, Iliana faltered, her shock leaving her at a loss for words. To Keith’s dismay, it didn’t last long. 

“You’re not?” she asked. 

“No…” Keith replied. He spoke slowly not in hopes of bypassing the serum—as he had painfully learned it would never work—but because the initial conversation had gone way off-topic. He needed to find a way to address this ‘emergency.’ He had no idea he was about to face one of his own. 

“You don’t want to be?” 

“Uh, well I—“ There was no way around it; the serum kicked in too fast. Keith felt his ghost exit his body right then, riding the words that left from deep within him. “Yes. I do.” 

Keith’s heart choked at the sudden, increased speed that his blood pounded through him at. His convulsing, paranoid gut had been right. He did have something to fear by coming here, but it was all by his own doing.

_The comms._

“Oh… fuck.” 

Iliana was oblivious to his epiphany. She had no idea she was not the sole witness to his death, standing before him with a hellish grin. He recognized the look. Pidge wore the same expression every time she k.o.’ed Lance in the space edition of Mortal Kombat. Which happened a _lot,_ so Keith could recognize it a mile away, let alone three feet in front of him. 

“So you _do_ have feelings for the blue paladin?” she teased, clearly enjoying herself. 

“Yes!” Keith shouted, receiving a sharp note of feedback from the mic in return. His throbbing eardrums were in about a tenth of the pain he felt in comparison to his heart’s burn. “ _Yes,_ okay? _Do you have to rub it in!_ ”

Iliana burst into a small, consecutive set of giggles, breaking only to make a low hiccup sound. As she went on, any sensible thought fell from the tops of Keith’s internal walls as they broke down. The sun of shame dawned on the horizon of his mind, and he scrambled to think of a coherent plan for when he got back. Every thought seemed to be in a metaphorical caps lock, screaming at him and his idiocy. What followed were some of the most poignant, useful ideas he had come up with in a long while. 

_FUCK GOING BACK THERE ANYMORE BITCH._

_I LIVE_ HERE _NOW._

_THERE’S A DESERT ON THIS PLANET JUST LIKE EARTH’S, TIME TO START THE NEXT CHAPTER OF MY LIFE: LIVING IN A SHACK VOLUME TWO._

Just as Keith had finalized his concrete plan for the future, a familiar noise faded. Iliana had stopped giggling. When he met her eyes, she wore a genuine expression of solemnity. The desert’s entire mood seemingly shifted, and Keith held his breath.

“Uhm… Red Knight, I… I really am sorry.” 

“What?” Keith asked, dumbfounded. “What do you mean? You already apologized for the whole marriage thing.”

“No, I mean…” she paused. A cloud began to form in her gaze, shadowing the previously present humor in favor of something much darker. _Regret._ It clicked.

“Why haven’t you told me what’s wrong yet?” 

“I…” Iliana hesitated, her gaze wavering from him to the uneven lumps of sand. A visible switch flips in her eyes and she makes a decision. Determination returned, she speaks up with both strength and desperation. “Red Knight, you need to go.”

“What? Why?”

“Now,” she said, the urgency in her voice rising. “Now! Before they come! I’m so sorry, I-I made a mistake, _please—_ “ Without a second to spare on confusion, the mic kicked in, and Keith heard Pidge speaking on the other line. 

“K—th!” Her voice crackled. The connection was weak, as if he were hundreds of miles away from the team. “K—th get o-t of th—… r-dar sig-al— y— d-ng-r th—…” White noise replaced the segments of words Pidge tried to get to reach him. It had all come too fast, too broken, he couldn’t glean anything from it. 

The desert’s light and glimmering sands was suddenly snuffed out, a giant rain cloud of metal hovering above him. Keith looked up from the quivering I’viran princess. Above them, low in I’vira’s atmosphere, lingered a fleet of familiar ships. 

“ _Galra,_ ” Keith growled.

The ships were gradually lowering, their pace at such a marginal speed Keith had to do a double take before realizing they had been moving at all. The immediate need for action dampened, but was far from evaporating. He could get away; he still had Red. Keith dropped his gaze, not meaning for it to get caught on yet another terrifying sight. 

Iliana was barely a foot away from him—Keith could only blame the shock for dulling his senses enough for him to not notice sooner. Tears fell down her face, leaving a glowing trail to leave its guilty mark. If he got out of this alive, he would have to tell Pidge about I’viran glowing tears. She’d have a field day. 

“It’s too late,” she whispered, leaning in. A starless torment clawed and contorted her expression under the dark sky. “I’m sorry, I can’t change again. Not anymore.” 

“I… I don’t understand,” Keith started. It was difficult enough to breathe, he couldn’t imagine articulating his confusion, especially while in such shock. “You… knew?” 

The I’viran didn’t utter a single, vocal response. She just leaned in further until her forehead pressed up against the visor of his helmet. A terror of the unknown struck him, leaving him numb to his own shaking. There was such raw, powerful emotion in each hard blink of her eyes. Each exhale left fog on his visor, and when it faded, Iliana just let out another labored breath and the fog returned.

A shattering bolt of pain shot through him, starting from his abdomen and spreading faster than any wildfire. It tore through muscle, leaving no mark, only pain, as it left him feeling more numb than fear and shock ever could. As his eyes fluttered shut and he crumpled to the ground, Keith heard four echoing words before his consciousness shut to black. 

“Forgive me, Red Knight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie what a great note to end on huh? :)  
>  ~~bet you thought it couldn’t get worse yet. here. we. are.~~  
>  so, i mean, you guys got your win (with Keith’s confession) but uh whoopsies there he go? where he go? poor boy got space tasered
> 
> uhh also i’ve kinda noticed my inconsistency with the I’vira/I’viran usage so i just wanted to clarify for those of you wondering: I’vira is the term of the place/planet (e.g. Europe), and I’viran is the term of an inhabitant of I’vira (e.g. European). hope that helped clear things up a bit; i might go back later and edit out the inconsistencies, but for now this’ll do.
> 
> as always, feel free to yell at me or just tell me how your day/night was in the comments. i was slow to reply when i wasn’t posting, but i’m back now so i’ll reply much faster.


	11. bite your tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i oRIGINALLY PLANNED ON POSTING THIS ON MY BOY HUNK’S BDAY BUT WOW THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN NOW DID IT  
> on another note, i finally posted so  
> not sure if that’s a good sign or not but, hey, if you make it through this chapter, feel free to talk to me about how much you wanna die :)

Keith hadn’t said goodbye. He had avoided any confrontation around Lance unless provoked. Lance decided it was for the best. As long as he could bring back what they were through bickering, maybe they could forget about his confession—his rejection.

_But old habits die hard._

Lance was glued to the screen the moment Red landed. The rest of the gang wasn’t much better, excluding Pidge, who was monitoring the radar. Allura lay front and center before the enlarged screen, with Lance pressing up close beside her. Shiro and Coran stood off on the sidelines, ready to engage if needed. As for Hunk, he stood near the screen, but primarily muttered among himself and Pidge. 

Seeing through Keith’s eyes, everyone took in the scene. The meeting point was smack-dab in the middle of the desert, too barren for much of a surprise attack. With tensions lowered, they watched as the scene continued to unfold. Keith began the conversation, speaking formalities that Shiro made an approving huff at. It hadn’t taken long for the princess to take control of the conversation, driving it in a direction no one expected. 

“I wanted to apologize for my rudeness. If I had known you were taken…” Iliana’s voice rang through the comms. By now everyone had been clued in about what happened the first time Keith went to I’vira. 

“She’s stalling,” Pidge said, taking a brief glance up from her device. “Why?”

“If I had an emergency, especially a life or death one,” said Hunk. “I wouldn’t be reminiscing about the past.” 

“You guys weren’t there,” Lance intervened, keeping his eyes on the screen. “In their culture it’s a really serious deal. Keith wouldn’t have been allowed to leave.” With context, taking a moment to apologize didn’t faze Lance in the slightest. He understood Keith being on edge—especially with the shit Lance pulled back on Amora—but this much apprehension from the rest of the team seemed unwarranted. 

Keith was quick to dismiss the apology, placing the fault on himself. His calm indifference when addressing the whole ordeal let out whatever guilt she seemed to have brought with her. With that, Iliana relaxed, seeming to regain the elegance she held back when Lance first met her. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice clear as the day in the desert. Thankfully Hunk had built an efficient system for audio transference between the comms and the ship. “I can only hope you and your blue paladin have a good life together.” The atmosphere of the ship shifted, as did all the eyes, landing squarely on Lance. Nerves tingling, he spoke up. 

“I, uh,” Lance let out a nervous laugh, running his hands through his hair. “I never _did_ explain to you guys how I got Keith out of there the first time…” With perfect timing, Keith broke out of his daze and once again dismissed the princess, assuring her they weren’t together. 

_We’re not together,_ Lance’s mind echoed his words. Keith knew he was watching. He could’ve been more blatant, could’ve totally annihilated him without seeing the damage he’d cause, but chose to be gentle. It was this kindness that made Lance wish Keith had just destroyed him rather than letting him down easy, because him caring only made Lance like him even more. 

_God, this isn’t how it’s supposed to work._ Lance chewed his lower lip. _I’m supposed to be getting_ over _him, not falling deeper than before._

“You’re not?” the princess asked. Lance wanted to look away for when Keith told the truth, but persisted. He had to get used to this feeling. 

“No…” The single syllable came out slow but steady. It was as if he were testing the waters of a familiar ocean, knowledgable of its contents but cautious of its ever-changing variables. He knew just as well as Lance did that the situation could flip at the drop of a hat. 

“You don’t want to be?”

Jerking away, Lance avoided the screen. This rescue mission really was a horror to be reckoned with, and he was far from prepared. If there was a way to be selective with his hearing like he was with his sight, he would’ve given anything to have it, even if it only lasted for this moment. 

“Uh, well I—“ Keith stammered. Lance was sure he was fighting to be kind rather than acutely honest, but he would lose. Just like Lance did. He shut his eyes; at least he wouldn’t have to see. Perhaps the arrhythmic beating of his heart would be louder than those next, predestined words. “Yes. I do.”

Lance couldn’t breathe. His heart had been sent into a decaying state of arrhythmia, and his eyes snapped open to take in the bright screen. There had to be something wrong. Either the comms had magically combusted in that moment or his ears had a moment of hopeful hearing, because this couldn’t be reality. He felt himself being pulled closer and closer to the screen, despite it not doing anything at all. He just wanted to be closer, needed to reach out and touch it, to know this was real. 

“Oh… fuck,” whispered Keith. Lance silently agreed. 

No one on the ship spoke. They all seemed just as surprised, but likely because of Keith’s declaration, not its contents. For Lance, however, it was a completely different story. It meant Keith wanted to be _with him_. 

“So you _do_ have feelings for the blue paladin?” Iliana teased.

“Yes!” Keith shouted. There was a sharp note of feedback from the mic, and everyone but Lance winced away. He was oblivious to the sound; all he could hear was Keith’s note of affirmation. “ _Yes,_ okay? _Do you have to rub it in!_ ” As the I’viran princess broke out into a spurt of giggles, the ship’s quiet was broken. 

“He… likes me?” Lance said, slow and in awe. It was a question. The entire crew spoke in unison. Lance winced as they spoke, finally catching up with the rest of the team.

“ _Yes,_ oh my god,” groaned Pidge, the first to say so. Trails of other’s yes’s followed, differing with each speaker’s character.

“Dude… I’ve been saying this since forever,” Hunk said. 

“He literally said he was more than willing to drag you back to his room,” Pidge added without a beat of hesitation. 

“I simply cannot believe it took you two this long—or one of you, rather,” said Allura. 

“It boggles me as well, princess,” Coran admitted, throwing in an emphatic nod. 

“I’m so tired of this family,” Shiro said with a heavy sigh.

Lance continued to stare at the screen, seeing the world through Keith’s eyes. His mind had the answer but was long due in its understanding. It was as if he held the image to the completed puzzle in his hands, but the pieces themselves hadn’t been organized and connected. The epiphany had hit him hard enough to knock what pieces he had poorly connected down, leaving him dull and unresponsive. 

“He… likes me,” Lance repeated, this time his words coming out more certain than before. 

_I can’t believe I had used my first truth to call Keith an idiot._

“I was… I was _so_ wrong,” Lance said, finding the words. “Keith isn’t the idiot. _I_ am.” His stunned shock didn’t last; the abrupt sound of an air horn shook him with such intensity his eyes moved to stare at Pidge. 

“ _Bitch you guessed it!_ ” she shouted, air horn in hand. Shiro had opened his mouth, as if to chastise her cursing, but only let out another sigh. With a shake of his head, he brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose.

“Where did you even…?” Shiro said before resigning himself to the silence. Even through Pidge’s obvious exasperation, she had managed to comfort him with their references. Lance smiled. 

“You was right.” 

The control room began to tremble, as well as the panel, and the clear-cut image of Iliana began to cut in and out of view. No one knew where to look; gazes switched between the projection of Keith’s view, the shaking walls around them, and each other. 

“Uhm— R… Knigh… really am sorry.” The I’viran princess’s voice cracked and fizzled, most audio lost in transmission. 

“Uh oh… _guys_ …” Pidge muttered. Her foreboding tone was enough to grab the team’s attention. Hunk was by her side, leaning over and examining her device. His eyes narrowed, abandoning his kind look for a sharper one. That was all Lance needed to know they were in for something big. 

“The radar,” Hunk acknowledged. “It only focused on accounting for anything on land—“

“Because we expected an I’viran ambush—” Pidge supplied.

“It opened us up to an attack from above.”

White noise took up the majority of the conversation between Keith and Iliana. Lance could barely make out the princess as the screen broke down, losing focus. A drastic drop in visual definition ensued, making their words near impossible to decipher. Pidge was on her feet, rushing over to the screen and reaching for the control panel. 

“Keith!” she shouted, her finger holding down three consecutive, glowing buttons. “Keith get out of there! We didn’t think to broaden our radar signals! You’re in danger, the Galra—” The screen cut to black and the ship’s trembling remained. Lance nearly toppled over, maintaining his balance a difficult battle on its own.

“Why are they here?” Lance shouted. General panic had begun to set in, and he wished more now than ever that Keith was beside him. This was a horrible time to be separated, especially when none of them knew their enemy’s intentions. 

“Someone must have tipped them off!” Hunk shouted back. “The Galra could never get that lucky!” 

“Paladins, get to your lions!” Allura said, voice raised but dignified. “We must g—“ A final, strong burst of energy slammed through the ship, sending the crew to the floor. The trembling had stopped. Without the cacophonous movement they were left with nothing, not even the hum of the castle’s engine. 

“They… left?” Shiro said, already up on his feet. 

“I don’t understand. Why would they?” asked Allura.

“I think I can answer that.” Once again, everyone had turned to peer at Pidge. Radar in hand, she held it up high for everyone to see. “Keith and Iliana. They’re gone.”

—

The lifting of darkness occurred to Keith first, followed by a pulsating, gnawing pain in his muscles. It didn’t take long for him to realize he had little leeway to stretch, or even move, as he opened his eyes. Groaning, he took in the dimly lit room. 

There were no windows nor walls that he could see. It was larger than a prisoner’s cell and held no bars in place of walls. What had clued him in to his captured state, however, was the uncomfortable fact that his limbs were chained to the floor and ceiling. It felt as if he were being forced to form a “Y” in some demented version of the YMCA. The air seemed colder, and with a simple look down he understood why. His bayard and external armor was gone, leaving only the black, protective spandex suit underneath. 

He tried to move. With the strongest jerk he could muster, Keith tugged his hands down towards his body. The reaction was instant; sharp, familiar jolts of electricity poured into him and further seized up his already cramping muscles. The pain was unexpected, leaving Keith to shout out in painful shock. A gasp echoed him as the throbbing dampened. 

“ _Red Knight._ ” The grogginess plaguing his mind snapped free, and Keith could clearly recognize the voice. Yet in his horror, he froze. 

“R-Red Knight?” Iliana’s voice came from behind him. Hesitation cracked her words laced with an ominous expectancy. Keith wondered if he should even speak at all, but getting answers was more than worth the risk. 

“Iliana… why are you hiding… behind me?” he asked. It was by far the least pressing matter, yet his vocal cords were enthralled to ask. 

“Well, I,” she paused, uncertainty gripping her once more. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you when you first woke up.”

“How considerate,” Keith said, deadpanning. The temptation to test the chains almost persuaded him to pull down again. 

_Best case scenario I’ll knock myself out and won’t have to continue this conversation,_ he thought. _Or escape. That would work too._

“Please, know I had no intention of hurting anyone,” Iliana said. She entered his field of vision, barely passing his peripherals. Keith winced; it even hurt to move his eyes. “If I had known what he had planned, I promise I never would have agreed to his terms.” The princess stood in front of him, eyes wide and pleading. Keith could only narrow his own. 

“Whose terms?” he asked. The girl’s face tightened as if soured by the taste of a lemon. Keith guessed that wasn’t the case, as lemons probably didn’t exist on I’vira. He let out a grumpy sigh. 

“Fine,” he breathed out, conceding. He would inevitably find out sooner or later, so there was no real need to rush. “Why would you agree to… _kidnap_ me? And hand me over to the Galra?” The incredulity in his voice was unhinged, but Keith couldn’t bother holding back. 

“They offered me the objects of my desires,” she explained, albeit quietly. Keith huffed.

“What could they offer that’s worthwhile?” he asked, leveling his stare. “We had an agreement. We’re here to protect you—we _want_ to protect you. The Galra are only going to betray you.” 

“No,” Iliana affirmed, shaking her head. “No, I made a deal with him. He promised me _respect_ , Red Knight. That was never something I could get back on my home planet because of my height. Everyone ridiculed me, but now… now they won’t _dare._ They’ll fear me.”

“Iliana,” Keith started. Exasperated, he dared leaning forward without triggering the electrocuting chains. “You don’t want this.”

“Yes,” she shot back. “I do. I want their respect, their fear, just like he wants you, and just like the universe wants order.” Keith drew back, his shoulders caving in as he resigned from fighting her. He was too tired. Despite the underlying feeling that he had been knocked out a long time, he had absolutely no energy. There was so much wrong and no place to begin to fix it. 

“You know, I knew you were strange when I first met you,” she said, her statement bizarrely out of place. 

“ _Wow_ ,” Keith murmured. “Thanks.” 

“I meant when you said you were part human, I could sense you were Galra too,” she said, quick to elaborate. Iliana even seemed to take a subconscious step forward, earnest in her open expression. He had no idea an I’viran’s sense were that sharp; Keith looked nothing like the Galra. “I just thought you were a spy of sorts. But then you saved me—you proved you’re not bad. That not all Galra are bad, just like you, and just the man I made the deal with.”

“That’s not,” Keith said, but cut off. He pushed out his frustrations with a guttural groan. “I’m different. You explained so yourself, right? I proved myself. How has this guy done the same?” He knew he wouldn’t get a description, or even a name, but an elaboration on Iliana’s part would help him see the bigger picture. With the bigger picture, he could hatch together an escape plan.

“I’ll admit he didn’t save my life, but he did save me from my people,” said Iliana. “After you left I contacted their fleet—even though my dad did do a good job of trying to hide it away from everyone. I don’t know why he wanted you over your blue paladin but I assumed it was because you were part Galra.” 

_Blue paladin._

“The others,” Keith exhaled, his eyes going wide. “They’ll be trying to find me. Where are we? Can you at least tell me that?” Her shielded look returned and she stepped away. “Iliana, _please._ I… I’m alone without them.” 

He didn’t know why, but the final sentence had caught her attention. For someone who abandoned her whole planet, it was a strange sight to see her so focused on those last few words. The struggle to not answer was visible in her unblinking eyes. It was painful to watch; so much worse than anything the chains could emit. There was nothing to do but hope. 

“Are you still affected by that truthful curse of yours?” she asked. It was yet another abrupt derailment from their conversation, and Keith was forced to respond. 

“Yes,” he said, then sighed. Allura had promised them only a week before the serum wore off, so there must be only a day or two left, depending on how long he was knocked out for. “Why did you ask?” 

“I’m starting to think my first deduction was false,” she said. A dull, glossed over look took control of her gaze. “I don’t think he only wants you because of your shared Galra bloodline like he said.” Keith knew it too. He had known since the very beginning. Allura had told them herself that they had to be particularly careful now. Each paladin was a free mine of information, and Keith had just been handed over to the enemy. 

“Iliana, I won’t be able to hold back anything if I’m interrogated,” Keith said. “And if the Galra figure out how to stop us you won’t just get payback on your planet. The whole universe will be under Galran control.” 

“What’s so wrong with that?” 

There was a hissing of the air and Iliana sprung back. She was no longer watching him, but was centered on the space to his behind him. His restricted limbs tightened on instinct, but being quickly conditioned to the chains, he didn’t move an inch. He wasn’t going about to administer himself another shock and risk passing out. Aside from the obvious reasons, whoever entered the room had to be reckoned with. Whether it be some lackey or Zarkon himself, he needed to be able to fight however he could. 

“Checking in with our guest, Iliana?” The voice held a smooth detachment from any semblance of emotion, flowing with a threatening edge. A voice like this was too intense to forget. Keith didn’t know who was standing behind him. 

“I only came to make sure he wouldn’t panic too much when he awoke. Especially with the restraints,” she said. “Wouldn’t want him knocked out again with the little time we have. But yes, I was just leaving.” Iliana’s posture returned to that of a princess’s and she approached the man. As she passed Keith, she did not give a parting look. Her gaze was glued to the spot over his shoulder. There was the hiss of a door. 

“On a time crunch already, huh?” Keith asked. “I knew my team would find me, but this soon? You must really suck at your job. Frankly, I’m surprised Zarkon has let you live this long.” 

“I doubt he would have any interest in killing his own son,” the stranger replied. Chills ran down Keith’s spine, more shocking than any output his cuffs could administer. Footsteps pressed heavily against the tile, clacking from behind him, then to his side, before stopping in front of him. A towering man with white hair like a waterfall flowing down his back looked down at him. He wore a dark smile. “I’m Lotor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet a member of Voltron, red paladin.” 

_Oh, shit._

“Now, about your previous comment,” Lotor said, closing the gap of space between them. “I’m actually not concerned how quickly the rest of your team finds us. The timer I am concerned about, however, is the one right here.” With an extended hand, Lotor ran a thumb over Keith’s bottom lip. Keith shivered at the touch. 

A string of curses filled his mind, but he bit back. Maintaining self-control was the most he could do to get back at Lotor. After all, he didn’t have to know Lotor for a moment longer to know he was trying to rile him up. Keith had been around Lance long enough to recognize similar techniques. Admittedly Lance was never so _touchy_ , but the intentions remained the same. 

“Why Iliana?” Keith asked, his gaze cold as he met Lotor’s catlike eyes. He drew away his hand, which fell to his side. If he could distract Lotor until he came up with a viable plan, then there was a chance he wouldn’t give up any crucial information under the serum’s influence. 

“What do you mean?” asked Lotor. “You do know she was the one who contacted us, do you not?” 

“I do, I just don’t understand why you took her in,” he answered immediately. “What purpose could she serve after telling you everything she knows?” Lotor was slower to answer than before, seeming to soak in the question. All he could hope for was that Lotor didn’t plan on hurting her. She may have betrayed him, but she had been blinded the desire for revenge. 

“I’m not like my father,” Lotor said. His vague response only fortified his detachment. “Everyone can be easily manipulated. He doesn’t see that. Where he is weak and kills those once against him, I use them for my benefit. I bring them to my side. Iliana gets what she wants and as do I.” 

“But the moment she’s no longer useful, you’ll dispose of her,” Keith said with cold conviction. It wasn’t a question. Keith knew this to be the case among all of the Galra. Lotor tilted his head in a way that seemed equivalent to a facial shrug. 

“Perhaps,” he admitted. There was no angel and devil on each shoulder for Lotor, only apathy and vice. “But that wouldn’t be the case for you.” Keith took a double take, brows furiously pressing together to form creases between them. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re part Galra, which would give you enough credence among the others in my army. I noticed you’re even holding a Marmoran blade, which—“ Lotor chuckled. It was bitter, colder than any desert at night, and sounded _wrong._ “Let’s just say I believe you’ll prove yourself more than useful.” 

“You’re insane,” Keith breathed out. “You… you actually believe there’s any chance in hell I’d join you? That’s a lot of bark for such a disappointing wall of fur.” There was a strong suspicion that Lotor didn’t know what barking was, but Keith was sure he got his point across. 

“Such confidence for someone who doesn’t even know if he can trust his team or not,” Lotor said. “Ironic, considering how Voltron denotes unity.” Keith felt himself stop, all trains of thought derailed, excluding a moment of consideration. He chose his next words carefully. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about… I trust them with my life,” said Keith. They were coming for him, there was no doubt in his mind about that. 

“I can see it in your eyes. I recognize it because it was the very same look I had myself years ago, anytime I looked in the mirror,” Lotor said, no hint of hesitance in his voice. “You may care for them, but trust is a whole other matter entirely.” 

“You’re wrong,” Keith restated, shaking his head. His eyes had somehow drifted downward, where he could watch the demanding heaving of his chest. 

“Is that so?” he asked with an amused huff. “Then answer me this, how can you trust people who don’t even care for you?” Keith’s eyes snapped to Lotor’s, more from shock than anger or exasperation. 

“Wh-what? I…” The serum kicked in. “I can’t.” Keith was quick to backpedal. “But they _do_ care about me, so congratulations. You’ve proven absolutely nothing.” Lotor let out another piercing laugh that made Keith’s ears want to shrivel up and fall to the floor. 

“You people clearly have trust issues if you’re using _Altean truth serum_ among one another,” Lotor concluded, grinning. “Even if that weren’t the case, this tells me all I need to know.” He reached out again, this time tapping something connected to Keith’s arm. 

At first, Keith thought it was the chains, but at closer inspection he realized it was the bracelet Lance had given him. Despite being stripped down to the bare minimum, Lotor had reasoned this was both equally important to stay on Keith and not important enough to be dangerous. At least, not dangerous enough for Keith to use. The last thing he wanted was Lotor to turn Lance’s gift into something he despised. 

_This is_ not _good._

“I believe you share an identical counterpart with someone else on your team. A perfect pair, if you will,” Lotor said. “Am I correct?” 

“Yes.” Keith clenched his fists, doing his best to pull as far away from Lotor as possible. He didn’t want to welcome another dose of electricity into his body, but compared to Lotor’s cold touch, it was starting to seem like the better option of the two. 

_He’s not going to drag me into his little mind games,_ Keith promised himself.

“Did you receive it as a gift, or were you the one to give it?”

“It was a gift from Lance.” 

“Lance?”

“Yes, the blue paladin.” Keith wanted to swing fists, to scream and to force Lotor to stop asking so many questions. He did nothing. He knew he had to maintain his calm, it was all Keith had over him. 

“So, am I also correct in saying that you have no idea what this object is?” 

“It’s a bracelet,” Keith said, appreciating the condescending furrow of his own brows. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Lotor cracked a smile. 

“If I were, you would have just proved me right,” he answered. Lotor repeated his previous gesture, tapping on the metal again. “Has it ever glowed in this Lance’s presence?” 

Keith probably would have made an attempt against answering Lotor’s questions, despite knowing fighting was futile. He wondered if there really was something to this bracelet, and if Lance even knew about it for that matter. Though this was more likely than not a ploy to manipulate him, Keith would humor Lotor. So far this was infinitely better than him asking about Voltron’s weaknesses. As long as he could hold off the important questions until he was saved, he wouldn’t have to return to his team with his head held low. 

“Yes,” Keith said, speaking as slowly as the serum allowed. If nothing else, he hoped time was on his side. “It glowed a really rich, deep purple.”

“Did his ever do the same?”

“Well… no,” said Keith. “I only ever saw him wear it the day he gave it to me, but later that same day it was gone… so his didn’t really get the chance to, I guess.” A disturbing upward twist of lips formed on Lotor’s face. That didn’t spark as much disgusted horror as the gleeful glow to his eyes. 

“What a _delight_ today turned out to be,” Lotor said, finally pulling his hand away. “I knew I was right, but this was just an added bonus.” Patience yielded focus most of the time, but this was one of those very infuriating exceptions. 

“What is?” he snapped. 

“What you’re wearing is from the planet Amora, and yours in particular is bonded to that blue paladin’s,” Lotor explained. “Simply put, whatever you feel for the wearer, in this case, Lance, is broadcasted through the colors of your bracelet.” 

Keith didn’t want to think. He wanted it all to stop. His mind was jumping to all sorts of horrifying conclusions, ones that he had tried to seal off ages ago. _If Lance knew what the bracelets could do, why would he give it to me unless he wanted to know how I felt?_ he reasoned. _No._ No. _He has an ulterior motive. He has to be lying._

“Why… why would you tell me this?” Keith asked. Lotor shook his head, smiling with a twisted up curve of his mouth. 

“Because, unlike your team, we could really care for you here. They’re not your family, Keith,” said Lotor. Hearing his name leave that snake’s split tongue was worse than any curse he could muster. “I’m telling you the truth because I _value_ you. I want you as an ally.” 

Keith refused to fall for this, he wanted to change the subject, but he couldn’t. He had to stall the best he could for the sake of his team. Right now pretending to buy into Lotor’s lies seemed to be his only option. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” asked Keith. “For all I know, that whole bracelet thing is a lie.” Stepping closer again, Lotor cupped a hand around Keith’s wrist. He barely suppressed a shiver before Lotor spoke up. 

“See for yourself,” said Lotor. The two meet in their gazes before Lotor’s returned to the bracelet. “Tell me, how do you feel about the blue paladin, Lance?” 

The question wasn’t only disarming. It held his breath captive tighter the chains that bound his hands. Without any escape, dictated by the curse on his tongue, Keith gasped out an answer. 

“ _I love him,_ ” he said. It was quiet, simple, and scared the living hell out of him. His heart began to tremble. A curt chuckle came from the vermin in front of him, and he glanced up. 

“You asked for proof, and there you have it,” Lotor said with a slight nod. 

Keith followed his gaze with a heavy intake of breath. What had before been a glint of lightless silver had now been replaced with a deep, healthy glow. It was familiar in its amethyst color, and sent his heart plummeting twenty stories. The vertigo made his head spin. 

“ _Crap,_ ” he muttered. 

“Oh, I’m not finished,” said Lotor. “I stand by my claim: they don’t care about you.” The prince leaned uncomfortably forward, his smile twisted. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you already knew that.” 

“Th-that isn’t—“ Keith’s retort fell short. He couldn’t manage a sentence; he didn’t _want_ to. Fear was beginning to ebb away at him, his conviction corroding. It was as if Lotor spoke more truth than he did, even under the serum. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

_No. No, I have to have more trust in my team than this._

He had no doubt that Shiro cared about him. They had known each other since the Garrison, and frankly he had been the only person Keith could talk to. That changed now, though. Pidge was by his side too, throwing in snide yet genius comments that made him smile. Hunk and Allura were there too, a constant comfort, despite their no-nonsense attitude. 

_They care. I know it._

“I can tell you don’t believe that,” said Lotor. Keith started, jerking so violently that he nearly triggered his cuffs all over again. “Even if I were wrong about the majority of them caring, I am right about _one_ of them. And, from what I gather, it seems that’s the only one you really wish did care.” 

“Stop it. Stop talking,” hissed Keith. “You don’t get to talk about my family without my permission.” 

“Family is for children,” Lotor said, scoffing. “You’re lying to yourself if you truly believe they would ever lift a finger for you. They’ll abandon you when the time comes, and you’ll be all alone.” Keith leveled his gaze. 

“Speaking from experience?” asked Keith. There was hardly a chance to react. A tight fist closed around his throat, stealing away his oxygen and leaving him gasping. Lotor’s nails dug into the skin of his neck so viciously he was sure Lotor had drawn blood. 

Even through the black spots and labored breathing, Keith recognized this gesture. Lotor was acting out, seething from anger that had long been kept under wraps. That kind of anger built up, just until it had a break, where it could flood his sight with red. Lotor lurched back, his hand retreating as he regained himself. 

“You are a hard one to convince, Red Paladin,” Lotor muttered, his stare detached. “But I’m sure you’ll see things my way.” Keith’s lungs were still catching up, his mind running a marathon ahead of him. Unable to respond, Lotor prepared yet another question. 

“So… how does he feel about you, then?” sneered Lotor. 

It was just another question Keith didn’t know the answer to. Or, maybe, one he didn’t _want_ to know. In the end, it really didn’t matter. The ending remained the same. Keith could only hope to forget the next few seconds of his life and go on, at least until the team rescued him. Bracing himself, Keith preemptively looked to the floor. The back of his eyes stung. 

“He d…” Keith inhaled sharply. “He doesn’t. Lance could never—he could _never_ love me.” The truth had finally revealed itself, and it stung more than the tears burning behind his eyes, but Keith couldn’t stop himself. “The moment we met he hated me, a-and I still don’t know why! And I try, _god_ , I try to understand him but I-I don’t—“ He needed to stop talking. 

His lungs ached and heaved and he felt lightheaded. He did the only thing that came to mind. In between hiccups, Keith bit down, teeth connecting with the soft tissue of his tongue. _Good enough._ Blood filled his mouth, and he didn’t hesitate in spitting at Lotor’s feet to get rid of it. 

“Now, now,” Lotor tutted, his hand coming up under Keith’s chin. “Your desperation is not becoming.” He wiped away the blood with his thumb. “But, I’m willing to forgive you for all of this, if you take me up on my offer. So, how about it?” 

With a swollen tongue, the serum attempted to bring out an answer. A garbled mess escaped him, but it meant nothing. For the first time, Keith had beat the serum his own way. Where Lance had his native tongue, Keith had his torn and battered. He had found his own way out. 

“No,” said Lotor. His back straightened to match the angle of a ruler, his eyes panicked. “No, you _will_ answer my questions, whether you’re on my side or not.” 

_Doesn’t look like you’re going to get much of a choice,_ Keith thought, victorious. 

“What you haven’t quite grasped yet, paladin,” Lotor growled, “is that I always get what I want.” His fingers slid back behind his back, grabbing something Keith couldn’t see. Lotor’s hand returned with a vial of opaque, glaucous liquid. Gripping either side of his face, Lotor yanked him forward. 

“You will drink this, or I will force it down your throat myself, and I assure you that will not be pleasant,” Lotor promised. Keith refused to oblige. 

The hand wrapped around his jaw pressed in further, without stop, until he yelped from pain. By the time the noise left his throat, it was too late. The contents of the vial spilled into his mouth and trickled down his chin. It was then that Keith noticed a separate stream falling from his cheeks. Fresh tears stained his face as the liquid went down, and the steel grip Lotor had on him made spitting out the liquid impossible. 

“There,” said Lotor, drawing back only slightly. “You should have no problem answering my questions with a mended tongue. Let’s start with the basics. Who are you?” Keith trembled as his grip tightened again around his jaw. 

“I am Keith Kogane, the Red Paladin of Voltron.” Unlike the rest of his body, his voice came out strong, though a bit hoarse. _No, please. I can’t do this._ From his peripherals, he could see the upturn twist of a grin. 

“Good,” Lotor said. The malicious praise only made his hanging head dip down further. “What about Voltron? What secrets do you know?” 

There was a shift in the stale air. It was if time itself had passed into the room, sweeping a hand and creating a ripple of change throughout the room. Keith looked up, peering directly into Lotor’s dark eyes. 

“Wouldn’t matter, because you’ll never get to hear any,” Keith said, giving an answer that was his own. Whether it was an accident from Lotor’s concoction or the serum had simply run its course, Keith was now in control. 

There was an unexpected pause in Lotor’s countenance. He seemed to freeze up, bewildered before arriving at an abrupt epiphany. Shaking his head in a way that was nearly unnoticeable, the prince took a few steps backwards, his eyes never leaving Keith’s. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” Lotor muttered under his breath. “I was supposed to have time—more than this! How _dare_ you refuse me!” 

“Tough luck, asshole,” said Keith. His tone was smug despite the blood, sweat, and tears. He was proud; he didn’t care if his victory was based purely on luck. He had won. As it turned out, Lotor was a sore loser. 

A fist slammed into his chin, ramming his head upwards and sending his brain flying against his skull. By the time he had recovered, two more fists made contact. One hit his cheekbone right below his eye, and the other resulted in a disturbing crack from his nose. Keith didn’t care; Lotor wasn’t getting what he wanted. 

“Why won’t you _join_ me?” Lotor asked, his voice rising. 

“Because I already chose a side!” It was a scratchy sentiment and cracked halfway through, but Keith had never been more proud. 

“You _know_ he doesn’t love you!” shouted Lotor. The pain that erupted from his chest was unbearable, a bonfire large enough to consume an entire island. 

“You’re right, I know he doesn’t!” Keith shouted back. “But that won’t make me turn against him, or anyone else I care about for that matter! I may be hotheaded and thoughtless, but at least I know enough to not put myself in front of the man I love!” He was close to losing his voice, but thankfully, he had made his peace. He had nothing more to say. 

The punches continued: his face, his chest, his stomach. Each hurt impossibly more than the last, but Keith didn’t mind. He smiled through it all, through the dry heaving and the tears. He protected his friends—his family—and that was all that mattered. 

He was happy. 

—

It had been hours.

Hours with no trace of Keith, Red, or even the alien princess. The silence of space was suffocating. Lance sat alone, in his designated seat of the piloting room, watching the others move about, searching for their lost teammate. 

Every once in a while, the silence would be broken by the pressing of buttons, clacking of keys, or an overdue, exasperated sigh. Where everyone was trapped in maps, Lance was trapped in his own mind, cycling through old memories. He had been so lost, he hadn’t noticed Allura stepping in front of him. 

“Lance,” she said, speaking softly. His gaze snapped upward. 

“Oh, princess,” Lance returned. “Weren’t you studying the castle’s maps with Shiro?” 

“I was,” she admitted with a nod. “But I thought it might be wise to check up on you. You were hit with a bit of a bombshell before we lost contact. How are you feeling?” Lance ran a hasty hand through his hair. With an uneasy, quivering chuckle, he took it upon himself to stand. 

“Ah, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry, I got a bit distracted.” Allura gave him a sideways glance, concern seeping into her exhausted features. 

“Why are you standing up?”

“To help,” Lance concluded simply. “Everyone else is in the same, depressing state, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Allura seemed to be taken off-guard. Out of all the things he had done, Lance never would have expected this to be what threw her off her game. He had almost stepped away before she spoke up again. 

“Lance, we’d all understand if you want to take some time to collect yourself,” she said, pressing the subject. “Even once we _do_ find him, you won’t be able to help him in the state your in. The best thing you can do for Keith is rest.” 

Hearing his name was the heaviest burden Lance had to bear. Looking away from Allura, he returned to scratching the back of his head. 

“I… I want to find him, Allura. I need to,” he confided weakly. “What if… what if I never get to tell him—“ 

“No. You mustn’t think this way, for Keith’s sake,” Allura pleaded. “We’re going to find him. You have to believe that.” 

The metallic doors slid open, making entrance for Pidge and Coran. Everyone in the room turned to face the duo, watching as Pidge eagerly waved a piece of parchment above her head. In a separate hand, she held an illuminated blue tablet. Ultimately, it was her face that clued Lance in. Pidge, as well as Coran, were smiling like madmen. It was Pidge who spoke first, shouting loud enough for the entire universe to hear. 

“ _We found him!_ ” she hollered. Pidge’s bright eyes met Lance across the room. The next time she spoke, they felt directed entirely at him. “We found him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. so.   
> right now you’re probably thinking “wow this is bad” or “i really, really hate this/you.” you’re probably frustrated and sad,,, and in my defense…   
> you’re absolutely right :)   
> you should be concerned. 
> 
> but really—thank you guys for staying this long.   
> as always, feel free to drop a comment below and i’ll respond when i can   
> <3


	12. the fall comes before the rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH BOY OH BOY  
> this took _wayyy_ longer to get out than i thought, and i’m so sorry! there’s been so much going on to the point where i ended up having to go to the hospital, but i’m finally back and feeling better. oof, sorry again for being such a problematic author. 
> 
> all that mess aside, im back and ready to continue spreading this hellfire of a fic lmao. i hope you’re emotionally prepared for this…

The team had a plan, but it served as a foundation to calming them down rather than a genuine solution to it. All of them knew the only real solution was getting Keith back, alive and safe. For the time being, at least, they clung to what they had—but that didn’t stop Pidge. She was almost as anxious as Lance, twiddling her thumbs and occasionally muttering to Hunk. Even so, Coran was the first to point out a glaring issue in their plan and made a crack in their fragile foundation. 

“Paladins, I was chatting with Shiro, and it has come to my attention that the serum has officially run its course,” said Coran. His eyes lacked any luster it usually held, a solemn look that didn’t fit Coran’s perky personality. 

“That means the Galra won’t get the answers they want, right?” asked Hunk. 

Everyone was silent. They knew there was more than one way to get information out of someone, but none of them had the will to say it. Knowing Keith, he would be too stubborn to give in, and without the serum forcing him to comply, it meant he had entered dangerous waters. Allura’s hands had tightened around the castle’s controls, her eyes going dark. She said what everyone desperately hoped was true. 

“The castle’s thrusters are on full-blast and we’ve dedicated all our fuel towards the engine. Wormholing simply isn’t an option,” she said. “We’re on the fastest possible route to reaching him.” 

Doubt hung heavy in the air. Allura had been piloting for hours now with Pidge by her side. Pidge had given her the coordinates to Keith’s location, but other than that, her lips had been sealed. How she had figured out where Keith was, he didn’t know. And despite his peaked curiosity, Lance hadn’t asked. It wasn’t important right now—not to him. If she could help, that was all that mattered. 

“Guys, I… I don’t want to rain on our parade of hope here but… shouldn’t we be a bit more cautious?” said Pidge. She was gnawing on her lower lip. 

_How could she say that?_ Lance snapped at her before he could stop himself. 

“Keith could be _hurt,_ Pidge. Or worse. And you’re worried about being cautious? Are you serious?” said Lance. 

_God… I sound just like him,_ Lance thought with a sharp pang to his heart. 

Pidge recoiled, and Lance abruptly noticed that he had stood up in the process. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at her; she was just trying to help, after all. They were all on the same team. Yet, he felt comments like those betrayed Keith. They couldn’t afford to slow down for the sake of their own safety at the cost of Keith’s. It was then that Shiro stepped in, placing a placating hand on his shoulder. 

“We know, Lance,” Shiro said. “Which is why Pidge would only bring this up if it was important.” Pidge nodded, thankful for his verbal assist. 

“I think we’re walking into a trap,” she said. Everyone stopped, even Allura, who had stepped away from the castle’s controls. 

“What?” said Lance. His simple and pathetic response left him feeling pitiful. 

“I think… I think the Galra _let_ us find Keith.” 

“What makes you say that?” asked Hunk. Pidge hesitated, looking pained at her own suggestion, and only continued when Shiro sent another supportive look her way. She let out a feeble sigh. 

“Because I’ve never been able to track the Galra using the scanner like I did earlier today. Especially with the interference we got in that asteroid field around Iliana’s home planet. I wanted to bring it up sooner but it… it’s the only lead we had.” 

No one spoke. No one wanted to entertain the possibility that they wouldn’t be able to save Keith, or that they would have to wait longer before they could bring him home. They had hit a long-awaited crossroads, where they had to decide the best approach. To Pidge, that meant planning out a cautious route—a smart one—to avoid an ambush. 

Which meant that it would take longer to reach Keith, and that he would be subject to the will of the Galra longer. 

Lance refused. 

“No. I don’t care,” Lance said, his heavy chest heaving. “I’m going to go after him whether you guys join me or not. I’m not scared of the Galra. I’m not scared of being ambushed. And I’m sure as hell not scared of being captured. What I am scared of is losing Keith.” With everyone’s eyes on him, he went on. His pent-up tension and anxieties had reached a breaking point and he was heaving it all out in front of his team, whether he wanted to or not. 

“We’re defenders of the universe, for crying out loud!” he said. Lance’s body was quaking with how aggressive his heart was beating in his chest. “Heading straight into danger to save someone else is part of the job description, and—and… he’s family! Keith and I get along worse than we do with the rest of you, but _I’m_ the one saying we should prioritize him over our own safety? How _could_ you? How could all of you?” 

The silence engulfed them once again. Lance had no regrets after speaking his mind, his adrenaline pumping blood through his ears at a volume that was nearly unbearable. He clenched his teeth, and with tight fists, waited for his team’s response. No one knew what to say, or how to continue off of such a passionate sentiment, but they all came to the same conclusion. They agreed. It didn’t matter if they were being stupid or rash. They had to go after him; they had to make sure Keith was okay. 

Allura turned in silence, returning to pilot the ship. Coran was next, joining to stand by her side. One by one, the rest of the crew followed, sitting down in voiceless conviction and looking forward. Lance was the last one to take his seat. 

They were going to save him.

———

Keith had never been the best when it came to timing. He would either head in too soon and let his rash side get the best of him, or mess up by being too late. He had never found that perfect balance, even in sleep. His insomnia made sure he never got the proper amount of sleep, as to perfectly screw up not just his waking life but his sleeping one too. His current situation didn’t break the mold either. He had lost any remaining semblance of time in the room when Lotor had gone. All he knew was that his team was coming for him. They had to. 

_…right?_

He pushed himself away from the darker portions of his mind. The action only grew more trying as the darkness swelled as time went on. He tried to think of other, more trivial things. He swallowed hard, focusing on how dry his mouth was, and how he would do anything for a sip of water. Even that vile drink Coran gave them oh so long ago would suffice. He would down it without a moment’s hesitation. 

_What was that drink called again?_ he wondered to himself, thankful for the distraction. _Nor… normac? No, nu… nunvil! That was it._

A sad attempt at a smile pushed up his cracked lips, reopening the vertical cuts and allowing them to bleed out again. He remembered that party, it had been the first time in a long time that he had genuinely let loose and laughed. He remembered laughing with Hunk when he stuck the lollipop-esque entrees over his eyes, closely resembling Lance who placed slices of cucumbers over his eyes as a form of “skin care.” He remembered Lance too, and how he had poked the blue paladin after he drank some of the nunvil. In retrospect, he couldn’t blame Lance for falling over. 

_Even so… what I wouldn’t do for some of that right now._

His joints ached with such dizzying fervor that Keith could feel himself going numb from the pain. In fact, every bit of him—from his nerves to his very core—was going numb. He barely registered anything feeling in his body anymore. It was both terrifying and calming. Being numb meant no more pain, but it also meant that he was running out of time. If the various deep cuts and bruises lining his body were anything to go by, the time he had left was slim. 

Lotor had shown no mercy. Each punch hit its mark with a resounding degree of force. At certain points, he had even resorted to the use of Keith’s own Marmoran blade, finding great amusement in using Keith’s gift against him. He sliced, and he sliced _deep,_ when Keith outright refused to give him what he wanted. Keith screamed and he hurt and he whimpered, but he never begged. Honestly, he was shocked that he was still conscious. 

The hiss of the sliding doors behind him have him curling inward on himself, like a Pavlovian dog to the sound of his only exit opening up to him. Keith shut his eyes. He needed just one more second before he could face Lotor again. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle this. 

He listened to the odd footsteps circle around him, before stopping in front of him. Keith debated pretending to be asleep. In the end, though, he feared what would be done to him if he kept his eyes closed for too long, so he opened his eyes. 

“Il-Iliana?” he said. 

The alien princess of I’vira was standing there, sulking as she looked up at him. Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. Her expression aside, Keith found himself relaxing. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew she was the enemy, but he couldn’t help but be glad that she wasn’t Lotor. 

“My goodness, I—… Red Knight, I… I’m so sorry. I-I thought you would join us, I didn’t… I didn’t think he would hurt you,” she said. Iliana reached out to touch the deep, open wound across his cheek, but Keith flinched away. He didn’t want her to touch him. 

“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking and small. “Just leave me alone.” 

She stepped back. Her eyes didn’t leave his tortured gaze. Then there’s the sound of jingling metal against metal. Keith looked up, blinking quickly in surprise. 

“Let me help you,” Iliana said. She was holding a ring of keys. The sight was too good to be true; Keith knew better.

“I don’t trust you.” 

“I know, and I don’t blame you. I… I thought I was doing right by me. I’ve always had to look after myself, you know. You saw it when you were there, how everyone mocks me for ‘not reaching expectations.’ Height is everything where I am from, so short jokes bombarding me at every corner and the way my father treated me, I just—I had enough” she said, eyes going wide at realizing how much she said. She bowed her head solemnly. 

“I’m sorry…” she muttered. “I know you can’t forgive me but at least let me remove your chains… so you can sit down.” 

Keith wanted to argue. He wanted to snap at her and show her he didn’t need her useless pity or her charity, but he was too tired. He sighed. Iliana seemed to take the gesture as approval and stepped forward. It has to be a trap, but it made no sense. After all, Lotor had him right where he wanted him. The keys went in one at a time, a different key for each lock, before releasing him. The repeated clank of metal falling to the floor rang in Keith’s ears like a symphony, and he was so weak he dropped to his knees as the final lock dropped. It almost felt wrong to be out of the position he had grown accustomed to after so long. 

“I’ll go get you something to drink,” she promised. “In the meantime, rest.” 

The door slid open and then shut, and Keith was alone again. Escape seemed like such a foreign concept to him now; he just wished his team would find him soon. He decided to crawl across the room, as that was all he could manage with his dwindling strength. It was a slow and painful process, but he eventually found himself a spot on the opposite side of the door and propped himself up against the wall. For how long he had taken, it was ridiculous to think that he was already out of breath. Even so, now he could catch a break. His eyes were closed, his breathing having calmed, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, he had a chance at getting through this. Then a gunshot burst through the air. 

Startled, Keith’s entire back pressed up against the wall. His body shivered from weakness, fear, and the cold. The sound echoed through his ears, reverberating against his skull, until the sliding metal doors cut through the echo. Lotor stood in the doorway, a Galran gun in hand. Right behind him, sprawled against the floor, was the princess Iliana. She wasn’t moving. There was broken glass paired with clear liquid pooling around her fallen body, which left Keith staring in disbelief. Much to his horror, the color red began to adulterate the water beneath her. He couldn’t even focus on Lotor, couldn’t even care that he was stalking ever closer, getting nearer and nearer by the second. 

“I may not appreciate you declining my offer,” Lotor drawled, “but turning my own people against me too? Tch, tch. Keith…” 

Keith still can’t look away. His breath has been glued to his chest and his heart no longer feels like it’s beating. It was too much. Despite how many times she had switched sides, Keith felt for her. He knew what it felt like to not belong, and seeing how she was treated by her own people when they first met, he understood. She had been lost, just like Keith had been before Shiro had taken him in back at the Garrison—back before he had a second chance. 

“You… you killed her. You killed her. For a… for a glass of water?” Keith shouted. It was weak, so incredibly weak. It could barely be called a shout. 

“Forgiving any betrayal, however small, exhibits weakness. I simply refuse to let you play your games,” said Lotor. 

Keith didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. All he wanted was to close his eyes, pretend none of this ever happened, and for it to all go away. His eyes refused to leave Iliana’s crumpled form and his hands shook almost violently. 

“But, there is a silver lining,” said Lotor. 

Keith didn’t look up. Instead, he found the barrel of Lotor’s gun pressed up underneath his chin, pushing his gaze upward. Forced to meet his overtly smug gaze, Keith did his best to summon up a glare in return. Lotor remained unbothered by his pathetic attempt to intimidate. 

“Your friends are on their way,” Lotor told him. 

It was another trick. It had to be Lotor would want to keep him hopeless, not give him a reason to live. He had spent all this time trying to break Keith; he had no reason to change now. Even so, Keith didn’t hold back. 

“Then I hope you’ve said your goodbyes,” spat Keith. 

“Cute,” said Lotor. His lips curled even more. “Too bad they’ll all be dead long before you get to say yours as well.” 

Keith smiled. He smiled because he knew they would come for him and that they would put a stop to Lotor. He knew this wasn’t the end. It didn’t matter whether or not he would be there to see it, as long as his friends did. 

“You’re scared. As you should be,” Keith said, chuckling to himself. “My team—my family—is coming for you. And when they get here, they’re going to fuck. You. Up.” 

He didn’t grace Keith with an answer. Rather, Lotor scoffed, raising the butt of his gun. In one fell swoop, it came down and hit him across the head. Everything went dark.

———

“We’re here.” 

It wasn’t as comforting a statement as Lance had hoped it to be. Before them, in the vast expanse of space, was Lotor’s army. An armada of Galra ships unlike any other the team had ever seen floated in the emptiness. It wasn’t a question of if they could win, it was a race to get Keith out as soon as possible. Without Voltron, they were at even worse odds. No one ship on either side moved nor made advances to attack. It was completely silent. It was terrifying. 

“Okay team, to your lions,” said Shiro. Everyone was already standing, their bodies seemingly huddled together as they stared forward. 

“But remember, paladins, we are here only for Keith,” said Allura from where she stood at the helm of the ship. “Without Voltron, we do not stand a chance against a fleet this large, so stick to the plan. I’ll maintain the castle for as long as I can, but you must be quick.” 

With a game-plan in mind, the team dispersed to their respective lions. Lance’s heart beat so heavily that he could hear blood surge in his ears. It was so loud it nearly overwhelmed his comms, shutting out the relief of having his team’s voices to comfort him. His heart clenched, though refusing to slow down, when he realized one voice was missing. It felt wrong, a musical note dropped where it should have been the centerpiece of the show. Lance didn’t care how dramatic he sounded, he missed Keith. 

Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro had lined up beside him now, all positioned defensively in front of the castle. Among the group, Allura was the first one to speak, her voice focused and composed. It had been a wakeup call for Lance, and had him tightening his grasp on his lion’s joystick. 

“I’m raising the castle’s defenses,” she informed the paladins. Sure enough, the telltale blue tint of the castle’s shield materialized to encircle the ship. They were cleared to go. 

“Pidge, you’re with me,” said Shiro. “You said you’ve come up with new tech that can track Red, right?”

“Yep,” she affirmed, sounding proud. “I modified the lions a while back in case something like this ever happened. Especially after that time Lance was so whipped for Nyma he let Blue get stolen…” 

“ _Hey!_ ” squawked Lance. “It wasn’t on _purpose!_ ”

“Hunk, you go with Lance,” Shiro directed, glossing over Pidge’s comment. “The two of us will retrieve Red, but once you get Keith you’ll have to coax him into summoning her. None of us can pilot Red, considering Allura has to watch over the castle and Keith is out of commission.” 

“What if…” Lance started, only to stop. The words caught in his throat at first but forced himself to try again. No matter how much he hated the thought, it needed to be addressed. 

“What if,” Lance tried again, “Keith isn’t conscious and can’t call for her?” There was a delay to Shiro’s response that led Lance to believe he wasn’t as confident as he sounded. 

“If it comes to that, Pidge and I will figure out a way to carry her back. You two will just need to focus on getting Keith, okay?” said Shiro. 

It left Lance unconvinced; he knew it would be near impossible to transport a giantic robotic lion that was one of the most bright and prominent colors imaginable across a battlefield. It was laughable, really, but all Lance could do resign himself to it. There weren’t many other options. 

“Okay.” 

“Hunk, you still have that handheld scanner I gave you?” asked Pidge. The two were dangerously close to the enemy ships now. It was so much more jarring to wait in anticipation than to actually fight in battle, the tension in Lance’s limbs tightening with each passing second. 

“I do, though I tweaked your model so it could clip onto my belt,” said Hunk. “I connected it to transmit info wirelessly to my helmet too, so I don’t have to juggle between it and my bayard mid-fight.” 

“I’m surprised you found the time for that,” said Pidge. True to her word, she sounded as surprised as Lance felt. Then again, by now he had become accustomed to his friend’s genius. 

“I, uh… distractions help calm me down at times like this…” Hunk admitted, his anxiety shining through once again. Though he wanted to comfort his friend, he was more worried about someone else at the moment. 

“That means Hunk can find Keith, right?” Lance asked, his breathing shallow. The team didn’t blow him off for not understanding what was simple lingo to them, and instead showed sympathy. 

“Yeah,” said Pidge. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. “Yeah, it does.” 

“They haven’t attacked yet,” said Shiro, speaking up for the first time in a while. “It’s unlike them. I don’t like it.” 

“I think it’s time we split up,” Pidge chipped in. “They might be waiting for us to make the first move.”

“I agree, we need to move fast,” said Lance, eager to move. “We can’t wait for something to happen. We have to get Keith.” 

The moment the four of them split off into two groups of two, there was a tangible shift on the field. As if sensing this was the beginning of the fight, the battleships responded in kind, sending out dozens on dozens of fighter planes. Even though only one of their teammates was missing, there was a disproportionate change in the way they fought as a whole. It certainly didn’t help that they were splitting up, either. This fight was way harder than any of them could have anticipated. 

A tangle of ships approached Lance before Hunk could point him in the right direction. He shot a blast at the closest of the fighters, dragging it horizontally across until all but one of the ships had been destroyed. He rolled to the side at the last minute, barely managing to dodge a clip to Blue’s side. Hunk appeared by his side, slamming into the remaining fighter and subsequently crushing the fighter by brute force alone. 

“So which way are we headed?” asked Lance, directing another shot at the oncoming swarm of Galran fighter planes. It hit all his targets point-blank, disintegrating three ships at once. 

“The battleship furthest from us,” Hunk answered. He was just as occupied, body slamming whatever dared come closest to him. Lance made a sound between a sigh and an exasperated growl. 

“Also the _biggest one,_ ” muttered Lance. Could the gods give him a break, if just this once? For Keith’s sake. 

For each ship they took down, two took its place. It was the hydra of all battles and it was absolutely maddening. Pidge and Allura had been right when coming up with this strategy—it was more of a race than it was a battle. Their main concern had to be celerity, and how fast they could get Keith and get out. 

Each time they had edged closer to the main battleship, a new onslaught of fighters would appear, effectively pushing them back. _Just another thing to piss me off,_ thought Lance. As strange as the timing for it was, Lance was beginning to understand Keith’s impulse to act on emotion. He had even convinced the team to rush headfirst into this battle, solely with his concern for Keith. His little pre-battle speech would have been nothing short of embarrassing, honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that he was too busy being terrified for Keith’s life. 

“This isn’t working!’ said Lance. “We’re no closer than we were before. We have to find another way in!” 

Five particularly aggressive ships ganged up on him, getting in a good few shots from behind Blue. Lance let out a frustrated shout, maneuvering away to shoot two of them as Hunk helped take out the others. He couldn’t even see Black or Green anymore, as they had moved to the opposite side of the battleship. 

“Okay, I have an idea. Watch my back,” said Hunk. 

Hearing his conviction, Lance set to work. The one thing he did appreciate when it came to Hunk’s anxiety was that when it was absent, it was for good reason. He knew Hunk was confident in his plan, and thus so was Lance. 

The fighters were even more unmanageable without Hunk by his side. His shooting became more reckless and his movements more erratic. From his peripherals, he noticed Hunk charging up Yellow’s cannon. Within moments of taking note of this, Hunk was firing. A blinding ray of light shot through the side of the battleship. It wasn’t enough to take it down, but it left an opening for Hunk and Lance to enter. 

“We go in there and we can get to Keith,” said Hunk, briefly speaking over Shiro’s directions. Absently, Lance realized Shiro and Pidge had been talking to one another the whole time, shouting warnings and commands back and forth just like Hunk and him had. He hadn’t even realized he had tuned them out—though, Pidge and Shiro seemed to have done the same. 

“I’ll block the entrance, you go and get Keith,” said Hunk as they rushed through the hole Yellow had made. “I’ll give you directions over the comms.” 

“No, I’ve got a better idea,” said Lance. On top of all the shouting, Lance doubted he would be able to hear Hunk’s directions anyway. 

He pulled a tight one-eighty with Blue as soon as they touched down. Without a moment’s hesitation, he was shooting a chilling ray across the opening of the hull. A wall of ice took its place, shutting out the oncoming myriad of enemy ships. He made sure to overdo it too, ultimately ensuring none of the ships could break through. Lance was breathing hard when Hunk gave a small, approving laugh. 

“Nice one, man,” said Hunk. Lance beamed at the praise. It was short-lived.

Lance jumped on his feet and crossed the gangplank onto the battleship. Pulling out his bayard, Lance formed his gun, meeting Hunk in the middle of an expansive armory. The room was lined with weaponry and ammunition that could be used to supply an entire army. When he turned to Hunk, he possessed the same fierceness Lance was sure he was giving off. 

“Is it that horrible of me to be tempted to blow all this up?” asked Hunk. 

“I’d love to,” Lance sighed, “but our priority is Keith, and I don’t want to draw more attention to ourselves than we already have.” Hunk snorted. 

“Keith this, Keith that,” he said, and Lance found himself getting flustered. He refused to believe he sounded like _that._ “You really have it bad, huh?”

“I-I do _not_!” Lance sputtered, throwing his free hand up in the air. “I’m just saying the troops on this ship will find us faster if we do!” 

“ _Mhmm,_ ” Hunk hummed, entirely and annoyingly unconvinced. His eyes were already scanning the armory, searching for its entrance. “There. C’mon, let’s go.” 

They entered the empty adjacent hallway with pleasant surprise, and Hunk seemed to read something Lance couldn’t see. Belatedly, he realized he was looking up the coordinates for Keith’s exact location. Anticipation coiled deep in his gut, his grip on his bayard viselike. 

All of a sudden, Hunk barreled forward, purportedly headed in the direction of Keith. Lance followed without question. He wanted to avoid conversation, too, in hopes of steering clear of all Galra interaction. Unfortunately, Lady Kismet had a different plan in mind. As they turned right when faced with a fork in the road, a blast hit the space beside his head, as well as two shots off to his left. On instinct, he ducked, turning swiftly to return fire. 

To his relief, there were just a couple of Galra soldiers behind them, and Lance made quick work of the group. He didn’t think they had time to call for backup, but one could never be sure. The two paladins rushed onwards, otherwise silent if not for the sound of their footsteps against metal tile and Hunk’s small confused noises. The latter was new. 

“Hunk?” he asked. 

“I… I think we have a problem,” said Hunk. Lance sucked in a breath. His mind spiraled through so, _so_ many different variations of what could have gone wrong, making his head spin. He felt sick with fear. 

“What?” 

“I thought my mods on the scanner were the problem but… I haven’t heard from the others for a while. I think… I think…” Lance paused to process Hunk’s words, albeit not wanting to, he understood what Hunk was trying to say. 

“There’s some kind of interference here?” asked Lance, already knowing the answer. 

“…and I don’t think it’s a coincidence, either,” Hunk added. Lance paused again, coming upon another bone-chilling epiphany. 

“Wait, but—does that…? How are we going to find Keith?” 

One look at Hunk’s face and he _knew._ No. No, Lance refused to lose this close. His heartbeat was pounding in his chest painfully, pressing up against his insides every wrong way. Unbeknownst to himself, Lance was pacing, bayard since abandoned on his belt and his hands on the top of his helmet. 

“Lance, I… I still have an idea where he is. I can take us to the general area and—and we can search from there,” said Hunk. His optimism was both infuriating and comforting. Lance could only nod. 

The halls were so monotonous and drab that they all eventually blended together. It seemed endless, save for the occasional Galra solider running into them while making rounds. His aim along with his shots were messier now—his hands shook from the overpowering buildup within his chest. He was debating asking Hunk how close they were when they came across a body. Lance nearly threw up on the spot. 

It wasn’t another Galra solider, no, this was someone he recognized, despite her body being soaked in her own blood. Astonishingly enough, Hunk was the first to check it out, kneeling down and searching for a pulse. Lance hated that he could still identify Iliana, through the blood and all. His stomach churned and for once he understood that nauseating feeling Hunk was always going on about. He gagged as he attempted to take a step closer, eventually deciding to forego helping Hunk. 

“It’s weak, but it’s there. She has a heartbeat,” whispered Hunk. His whole body went rigid from the cold, and in a moment made up of anger and disgust, Lance spoke out against her. 

“ _Leave her,_ ” he hissed. Hunk looked up at him, genuine shock painting his features. 

“What?”

“You heard me.” 

“Lance—“

“She’s the reason Keith got captured,” he said, tongue sharper than he meant it to be. “This is all her fault. If Keith’s hurt—“

“We can’t just leave her here to die,” said Hunk. “ _I_ can’t leave her here to die.” 

Lance ground his teeth and turned away. He wouldn’t argue with Hunk, not now. Right now, there were more important things to attend to. Finding Keith was one of them. 

“Fine,” Lance said, resigned. 

He took a minute, as did Hunk. It was anything but a peaceful moment but it was well needed. Eventually, Hunk was the one to pick her up, carefully disarming his bayard in favor of cradling Iliana. Hunk was already moving forward when he stopped to look back at Lance. The blue paladin hadn’t moved, his eyes trained to the ground. 

“Lance…” said Hunk, voice quiet. It wasn’t exasperated or condescending; it was understanding. Somehow, that bothered Lance even more. With one hand curled into a fist, he shut his eyes. 

“What if we can’t find him in time…” said Lance, unable to help the piteous voice crack. 

“We will.” 

“But what if he’s—“

“We _will._ We’ll find him.” 

Lance wanted to believe him. He really did. Even so, the desperate, gnawing feeling within him would not abate. The need to cry and scream and punch something in the face all at once had him trembling jump-starting again. Needing something— _some_ kind of relief—Lance raised his fist and slammed it against the wall beside him. 

What he didn’t expect was a yelp coming from the room on the other side of the wall. The nearly indestructible walls on the outside of the ship must have served as overcompensation for the walls within. Lance’s wide-eyed gaze snapped up to meet Hunk’s, then to the door of the room to his side. Silently, they moved in sync, closing in on the door. They reach an unfamiliar and, most likely, locked interface. Another look at Hunk has Hunk shrugging his shoulders. 

“The comms are still down and Pidge has always been the hacker. I’m more of an engineer,” he said bluntly, though apologetic. 

Undeterred, Lance shifted to deal with the interface himself. Pulling up his bayard, he shot at it, hoping his last resort would be the only one he needed. An unnamed weight was tugged out of him as the door slid open—nothing short of a miracle—and the two entered the small room. 

“Keith,” he gasped out, voice hushed. 

Keith was almost beyond recognition in the state he was in. Lance’s heart leapt up in his throat, choking him up. A bloody heap across the room, Keith sat, his eyes glossed over in a way that downright horrified him. He didn’t receive a response. Both him and Hunk rush over to Keith, dropping down to kneel in front of the battered red paladin. Lance’s bayard was left abandoned behind him as Hunk propped Iliana up against the wall. If his attention wasn’t elsewhere, he would’ve noticed the way her body shifted. 

“Keith. Keith, oh my god,” said Lance. 

He didn’t hesitate to reach out to him, his hands moving diligently but gently over Keith’s bruised skin. From a cursory glance, he noticed an abhorrent amount of open cuts and wounds, as well as the blackish purple rings encircling Keith’s wrists. Lance did his best to wipe away caking, dried blood, and brush Keith’s bangs out of his face. It hurt Lance, the way Keith leaned into his touch, how willing he was to throw away everything just for this moment of comfort. Keith closed his eyes, letting out a small, indescribable sound. 

“We need to get him out of here,” said Hunk. He knew Hunk was trying to be gentle, despite the gravity of the situation. He was right, the rest of the team was waiting on them. As if he could hear Lance’s thoughts, Keith’s eyes opened, looking straight through him. 

“Re…d…” Keith’s busted lips barely moved as he spoke. It sent his heart into a panicked arrhythmia. 

Of course at a time like this that was what he was worried about. It sent a helpless pang through Lance that despite it all, Keith was worrying about everyone else besides himself. 

“Oh, Keith,” he muttered, unable to help his softening gaze. He ran his thumb over the only unmarked patch of skin he could, dragging it lightly across his cheek and trying to bring some comfort to the boy he loved. Keith melted into his touch once more. 

“It’s okay, she’s okay,” Lance breathed out, hoping he sounded convincing enough. “Pidge and Shiro are with her right now, they’ll make sure she gets back, okay?” 

“Actually, they’re—uh…” Hunk wavered, unsure if he should continue. “They’re still waiting for our signal, and without the comms—“ 

“N-no, I…” Keith murmured, and Lance’s attention was immediately back on him. He let Keith’s head fall against his palm, leaving Lance to cup his cheek. “I _feel_ her… s-she’ll… fo…follow…” 

“That settles it then. We’ll head to our lions and get you home, okay mi amado?” he whispered only for Keith to hear. Keith didn’t respond, his eyes fluttering closed, and Lance panics. He spoke faster. “You can sit with me, if you want. And you can tell me about all the ways I’m piloting wrong and how much of an idiot I am, and… and…” 

“Lance,” Hunk interrupted, his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “We need to go.” 

“Okay,” Lance breathed out. He looked powerlessly between Hunk and Keith. The boy in front of him was practically limp, pressing against Lance with all that he had left—which was, chillingly, not much at all. “Okay, yeah. Good idea.” 

Lance moved closer to Keith, gently placing a hand underneath Keith’s legs and the other to brace his neck. The moment he tried to lift him, however, is the moment he almost dropped him. Keith acted out. Suddenly snapping to attention, Keith flailed in an impressive attempt to break out of his hold. His incoherent mutterings turned into full-blown shouts as Keith pushed himself away from Lance. 

“N-no! No, I, no. Lance can’t. I-I don’t want—he… needs to leave…” The words hit him harder than all of Voltron ramming into him at light speed ever could. He stumbled back a bit, releasing his grip on Keith and allowing him to stay put on the floor. 

“Wha… Keith?” Lance found himself asking. “Keith, I’m here for you. I’m here to help—“ he said, but Keith cut him off. 

“Nonono,” he said, his head shaking violently. “Hunk. Hunk can… you s-shouldn’t… ‘m sor… ry…” 

Lance didn’t understand. He wanted to but knew now wasn’t the time to ask questions. And even if he did ask, he knew he wouldn’t be getting a straightforward answer. Coran had told them while they had been on their way here: the truth serum had run its course. It only added to the pot that, at this point, he wasn’t even sure if Keith was lucid. 

“It’s okay, Lance. I got him,” said Hunk. “Could you get Iliana?” 

Hunk was swift but ginger in his movements, bringing Keith up in his arms. Keith had been both completely pliant and compliant while it happened, too. It was the most un-Keith thing he had ever seen Keith do. Confusion and jealousy swirled together in his gut to form something gratingly painful. Unable to look at Keith anymore, he swiveled around to pick up Iliana instead. She stirred in his arms slightly but was otherwise static. 

“What about the rest of his stuff?” asked Hunk. 

Lance snapped back into action. Now wasn’t the time to worry about how Keith felt. He had to make sure Keith made it before anything else. 

“His armor? Allura’s used the ship to develop more before, she can do it again,” said Lance. 

“I meant his bayard,” Hunk clarified, though his voice was not unkind. 

“I-I don’t know…” Lance admitted. His gaze fell dejectedly upon Keith. “But it doesn’t matter. Keith’s life is more important right now.” 

With nothing more than a short nod from Hunk, the two were on the move. Their communications systems were still down, so they had no way of knowing how the team was doing, and it was just another thing that urged him forward. Bizarre as it seemed, they ran into no other soldiers on their return trip. Though it left him feeling off, he was glad; he wasn’t sure how good his aim would be at the moment. Only he had his weapon out, as Hunk’s was two-handed. Thankfully, his bayard was wieldy enough to be held in one hand, just below where he had Iliana cradled against his chest. Although she was larger in size, she weighed practically nothing. _Has to be an I’viran quirk._ It was pretty uncomfortable but it worked.

When they reentered the armory, the off-putting lack of soldiers on their way back made sense. Blue had been his first clue, pinging off a confusing but explicit warning in Lance’s head. The next one that followed had been the three figures standing in front of Blue and Yellow. The center figure had their back to the paladins, while the other two were positioned on either side of them, facing Lance with raised guns. Their guns were trained directly at Iliana and Keith, and Lance froze, not wanting to risk a shot. There was no time to form a shield, let alone get her and Keith both to safety. 

“Hello, blue and yellow paladins. This introduction is long overdue,” the center figure spoke, turning around to face them. “I’m Lotor, son of Zarkon and rightful heir to the Galran throne. It’s a pleasure.” 

He stood with an air of increased importance, and his calm but controlled expression spoke of an elegance that was reminiscent of royalty. He paralleled their own princess with his long, platinum locks, which cascaded past his shoulders and across his armor. Lance could sense his arrogance from this far away. It didn’t take much to instantly hate him. 

“I’d say drop your _weapons,_ but it seems you’re even more pitiful than I could have envisioned,” said Lotor. No grin could match how smug he sounded. His piercing gaze met Lance’s. 

“So, then, drop your weapon along with those two deadweights. That way I won’t have to shoot through them to reach you. How does that sound?” said Lotor. His pleasant smile belied the monstrosity that laid bare in his words. 

Hunk was looking to him, expectant and with thinly veiled fear. They were being cornered and all their options were dwindling drastically. He let his gaze flit down to Keith. His heart thumped weakly and weighed him down. The relief of finding Keith had now been gravely overshadowed by concern. Lance sighed, tired, and surrendered to Lotor’s demands. He dropped his gun, then lay down the motionless girl in his arms. Beside him, Hunk did the same. 

Lotor expressed his approval with a pleased scoff, then gestured up with two fingers and pointed forward. It was then that Lance noticed Keith’s bayard secured snugly to Lotor’s side, his view obstructed only by the gun Lotor was holding. The soldiers swept forward, slow and steady. Lance held up his hands, though not without reason. A plan—an incredibly stupid one—had formulated in his mind. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to get shot, but it was of no concern to him. He had to put everything on the line. Keith wasn’t the only one in danger anymore. The rest of the team had trusted him by coming here, and he was letting them down. 

Before a gun could press itself to his chest, Lance reacted. He swiped at the firearm as he ducked in the opposite direction, catching the soldier off guard enough to be grazed by the blast. He heard a shout to his right as he rose a knee into the sliver of space between the Galra’s chest and abdomen, earning a breathless cry. Spotting his chance, he pried the weapon from the winded Galra solider. 

He shot into its chest, then redirected himself to the other Galra focused on Hunk. With another practiced tap to the trigger, the second solider was down. A final shot burst through the air and the gun was forced from his hands. It had come from Lotor. He had picked the wrong enemy to shoot. There was no time to reach for his bayard before Lotor shot again. Lance couldn’t help the way he flinched, eyes briefly shutting, until he heard Hunk yell out. 

Hunk had been forming his cannon when a blast to his shoulder sent him to his knees, then tipping over to fall onto the floor. A scream lodged itself in Lance’s throat, but Lotor was already re-aiming. Sometime between their first verbal confrontation and now the prince had edged closer. He was towering over the paladins now, and Lance’s bayard was far outside his reach. Lance hurtled himself forward and barreled into Lotor’s front. Before he could stumble back, Lance’s hand curled around the stolen bayard and tugged it away. 

As if it was animate and could sense the utter desperation of the situation, Keith’s bayard glowed. A blinding source of hope, it morphed in his favor to form a broadsword. Its general shape gave it an Altean feel, and before he could question it, he was swinging. Admittedly, it was a sloppy gesture, but it was swung point-blank. It hit its target, knocking away Lotor’s weapon and sending him stumbling once more. The gun skittered across the floor of the ship and towards the others. 

“Holy _shit,_ ” Lance murmured. His shell-shocked stare had fallen upon the sword, though just for a second. 

Apparently, a second had been long enough for Lotor. In a span of but a moment, he had had reached for the nearest wall of weaponry and grabbed a blade for himself. It came down hard on Lance and metal clashed against metal. His arms shook at the force, not used to the muscles needed for this kind of weapon. Legs stuttering, Lance was pushed back, step by step. He was being pushed on the defensive. 

In an attempt to regain the higher ground, he made a slash towards Lotor’s chest that was easily blocked. The prince responded in kind—though much more effectively—and promptly slid the blade forward, leaving a deep cut on Lance’s favored hand. In a moment of weakness, Lance’s grip faltered and Lotor swiped down, forcing his Altean broadsword from his hands. Rather than skid away, Keith’s bayard fell in place by his feet. 

The tip of the prince’s sword pressed into the flesh of Lance’s throat, an inch below his Adam’s apple. It wasn’t enough to draw blood but if Lance swallowed he was sure it would. Breathing hard and chest heaving, Lance’s eyes darted down to Keith’s bayard, an unintentional admission of his plan. Lotor laughed, bringing away the blade to be replaced with a clawed hand to his throat. Nails dug into soft skin and left Lance gasping for air. 

“Ah ah ah,” mocked Lotor. “Don’t bother.” 

His feet were raised up off the floor and Lance was choking. Darkness encroached his vision. It seemed, however, that the prince was not enjoying himself enough. Lotor stepped forward, lifting Lance along as he reached a familiar body. If Lance could have spared a breath, he would have shrieked. 

“You know, he mentioned you the most,” he said. 

The sword was retrained to Keith’s chest, the boy’s breathing shallow. Keith’s eyes had long shuddered closed though, unbothered by the new source of pressure. Panic swept through Lance and he was jolted into struggling against Lotor’s grasp. It was useless. A fresh explosion of pain bled through his neck as Lotor dug his nails in further and Lance’s mouth opened noiselessly to scream. He couldn’t truly form words until the sword began to press lightly into Keith’s chest.

“Puh—please!” rasped Lance. Wet tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he begged. “D-don’t… hur…t him…” 

“I quite enjoy your begging,” Lotor hummed. He clicked his tongue. “A real shame that this has to end, isn’t it? Though I will enjoy taking Voltron for myself, this has been much more fun.” There was a slight pause, where dark eyes played over Lance’s body. Lotor smiled as his gaze met the blue paladin’s, the look a wicked one. Lance didn’t want to see anymore, so he closed his eyes. 

“I think I’ll take the life of your love first, then your teammate, and you even have the pleasure of getting to watch…” drawled Lotor. “Regrettably, it’ll have to be quick. After all, I still have the rest of your team to take care of, but don’t worry… I’ll see to it myself that they a—“

A gunshot cut through his words and rang loudly in Lance’s eardrums. It was abrupt and had Lance’s eyes flicking open, looking just as shocked as the prince. The realization came to him slowly, seeping into his brain as blood seeped through the chinks in Lotor’s armor. Lotor relinquished his grasp, fingers falling away as he collapsed to the ground. Lance hit the floor a second later, though catching himself on his knees. He gasped out and choked as his vision came back into focus. He stumbled as he rose to his feet, looking up in time to meet Iliana’s gaze. She was lying on her stomach, clasping one of the Galra solider’s guns. There was a determined glint in her eye and she was smiling weakly. 

“And that’s why villains shouldn’t monologue,” she muttered. 

It was impressive, considering she was on the cusp of losing consciousness. Frankly, in any other situation, Lance would have laughed at her comment, but his shock locked him in place. He panted for air, a hand coming up to make contact with his bruising skin while he went on to stare. Iliana, meanwhile, hesitated in place. Her eyes went through a range of emotions, before landing on the most genuine look he had ever seen on her. He continued to stare. 

“I’m sorry…” 

_She saved Keith’s life,_ he thought with a start. _She saved_ my _life._

Lance allowed himself a last deep breath before racing over. She smiled once more, and Lance whispered an honest ‘thank you’ before she went limp, fainting. He checked her vitals too, making sure he wasn’t misreading the situation, and sighed in relief at feeling her pulse. Fainting was confirmed to be the case. At least, for now it was. 

“Hunk!” 

He appeared by his friend’s side as fast as he could manage. Hunk was clutching the wound on his shoulder, curled in on himself in what must have been agonizing pain. The gun Lotor used had to be a new prototype. There was no other explanation. Hunk was tough, he could take a hit, but this… 

It was heartbreaking. 

It was his fault. 

“…shocked me, I’m all right,” murmured Hunk. He was sitting upright now, regaining himself. Blinking a few times, he looked down at a kneeling Lance. 

“Bro, I’m okay, really,” Hunk said. He sounded more like himself but Lance wasn’t satisfied.

“It was like the opposite of a muscle stimulant and locked up my muscles,” Hunk explained. “It’s actually a clever improvement. I’ll have to tell Pidge about it…” 

Lance laughed despite himself. He couldn’t help it. Here Hunk was, in the middle of a battlefield, battered and shot, and his biggest concern was telling Pidge a new possible modification for their arsenal. Then the guilt settled in. Hunk wouldn’t have gotten shot if it wasn’t for him. He reached up and put a shaky hand on Hunk’s unharmed shoulder. 

“Wait, Hunk, I’m—“

A sudden coughing fit interrupted his apology. Two heads turned to look at Keith, first with worry and then with unconcealed fear. When Lance moved closer to check on him, he saw blood. Hunk was standing now, dropping the hand from his shoulder down to his side and clenching it. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” whispered Lance. 

“Lance, I think it would be better if I took him back myself,” said Hunk. Lance gaped at his best friends, eyes wide in disbelief. 

“Wh… Hunk, what’re you talking about? You already have to worry about Iliana and… I-I can—I want to take him.” 

“I know that,” Hunk sighed. “But Yellow is bigger than Blue.”

“But Blue’s faster!” he retorted. He couldn’t let Keith be taken away from him again. He couldn’t. 

“Yes, you’re faster, but that’s just more of a reason for you to go signal Shiro and Pidge. I don’t know how much longer they can go on without us—without the comms,” Hunk explained, “so you’ll have to make sure they get Red and get out of there.” Lance wanted to argue, but couldn’t find a flaw in his reasoning. 

_Damn his smarts._

“Plus, Yellow can take a hit,” Hunk said, bolstering his argument. “Worst case scenario, Keith would still be protected. I can handle both him and Iliana, Lance. You need to trust me.” 

Lance did. There was no doubt in his mind about that. But, when he looked down at Keith, all he saw were those faltering purples staring back. Keith was exhausted. He didn’t even have enough energy to look scared. It was a miracle he was cognizant, really. For what had to be the dozenth time today, Keith’s eyes fluttered closed. Lance’s chest ached, missing their color. 

_Keith doesn’t deserve this._ Hunk dealt his finishing blow, coming up behind Lance and squeezing his shoulder. The gesture didn’t comfort him like it should have. 

“Even if you did take Keith, I’m not sure Keith would let you… He already refused to let you carry him once,” Hunk said quietly. 

It hurt, but Hunk was right. There was no use trying to fight it. Lance knew his friend was right, he just wished it wasn’t true. The thought of being separated from Keith again was almost too much to bear. He wanted, for once, to cradle Keith in his own arms. Lance winced as he turned away. The rest of his body ached in his absence. Looking at Keith one last time, Lance resisted the urge to reach out and reassure himself that Keith was here—that Keith would be okay. He had to go help the others. He started walking towards Blue, empty-handed. 

“Get him to a pod,” Lance said.

———

Hunk had just set off. Yellow streaked forward at full speed back to the Castle. He had positioned Iliana in an alcove a few feet behind the pilot seat, buckling her in using magnetic straps. Normally, they were only used for transporting crates and supplies, but it had worked just as well for securing the alien princess. 

He was piloting now, deliberately ignoring the occasional spikes of pain coming from his shoulder. Keith was in his arms, still conscious, and sitting uncomfortably in his lap. His anxiety wasn’t helping, and Hunk found it easier to concentrate if—as strange as it was—he was talking. 

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you want Lance to carry you?” Hunk asked, fully knowing Keith wouldn’t answer. “It doesn’t make any sense.” 

Lance had shot off a few minutes before him, serving as the perfect distraction. Because of that, there were significantly less fighter pilots as he made his way back. Even the ones leftover were easy to pick off along the way. Normally, he didn’t like any of his teammates acting out so recklessly, but this time around he commended Lance. He had opened a direct path back to the ship. 

“Seriously, if I were you, and I had a Balmeran-sized crush on Lance like you, I’d jump at that chance,” he said. 

As he neared a larger ship, Hunk braced himself and held onto Keith with his better hand. He shifted the stick in a way that set off his wound again, nerves on fire as he leaned into a barrel roll around the oncoming ship. It was a short-lived success. Keith exhaled an intense groan into Hunk’s armored collarbone. It was the exact opposite of a good sign. Hunk urged Yellow forward. 

“He almost held you bridal style, too. Bridal style, Keith!” 

A pained chuckle escaped Keith’s lips. The sound brought his nervous mutterings to a screeching halt. It was so small Hunk would have guessed he imagined it if Keith hadn’t spoken up afterwards. 

“I heard… things, Hunk… and I said…” he muttered, eyes closed. “I know… I know how Lance feels.”

Hunk perked up at that, sneaking a surprised peek down at Keith. He didn’t know what to say. Quickly, though, he returned his attention to the glass. He was still piloting, after all. 

“O-oh?” Hunk said as he steered past the ruins of a destroyed ship. “How did you figure it out?” 

“When Lotor… talked to met, I… I was still under the serum—I…” 

Keith had begun to tremble in his arms, and it got Hunk wishing Yellow could fly at higher speeds. Lance was relying on him to get the duo into pods—to get _away_ from the fight. It was the least he could do. Keith’s eyes opened suddenly, the unanticipated wetness in them so startling Hunk had taken his eyes off Yellow’s controls to stare. 

“ _I know he doesn’t love me back,_ ” said Keith, voice hushed and cracking. 

“Keith, I… what?” Hunk was having trouble forming words. He was still caught up on the fact that Keith was crying. 

“He asked me how Lance felt and… I said he didn’t love me,” Keith said through breathy sobs. “Fuck, I—I just… it’s the _truth,_ Hunk. I spoke the truth, and I… I knew it from the start but I just couldn’t—“ 

The entire lion lurched forward, and Hunk had to catch Keith before he’s sent flying. With one hand wrapping protectively around Keith, he reached for the controls, jutting the stick violently. Yellow nicked the side of a large cruiser. Hunk cursed under his breath, thankful Yellow kicked him back into gear in time. Not wanting to look down again, Hunk did the next best thing to check on Keith. 

“Keith?” Hunk asked, panicking. “Keith, are you okay?” 

Keith didn’t answer. This time, Hunk hazarded a quick look down, only to see a passed out paladin. He used the hand already holding onto Keith to check his pulse, which was beating—just barely. He needed to get back to the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter translations: “mi amado” = “my beloved/love” 
> 
> i know this chapter was pretty heavy plot-wise, but i assure you this was the worst of it. even so, i hope you enjoyed it for what it was. thankfully tho, our babies get to rest next chapter, so there _is_ a silver lining. feel free to leave a comment too—i love hearing all that u think and have to say :) 
> 
> again, thank you guys for sticking with me this far. we’re nearing the end but i appreciate all the insane support i’ve gotten so far. you’re all awesome <3


	13. the closure in love’s disclosure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve run out of chapter titles, so i’m resorting to terrible puns. that’s right, you guys/gays, i’ve hit an all new low. clap for me. 
> 
> okay i’m done being a fool. i hope you’re ready for the most frustrating yet satisfying moment of catharsis you’ll experience in this absolute crack fic. you’ll get what i mean in a hot minute…
> 
> :)

Reality checks were the worst. Though fully aware of the magnitude of the situation, Lance wished he could be selfish more than anything. It hurt to leave his friends behind. He knew Hunk was more than capable of protecting Keith and Iliana, and that they weren’t unarmed. Before his grand exit from the battleship, Lance informed Hunk of his plan to draw away enemy ships that were sure to be swarming the outside, while Hunk collected Keith’s—as well as his own—bayard, along with Lotor’s specialized firearm. Lance, meanwhile, had gathered up his own bayard, reattaching it to his side. 

As his good hand trailed over the handle, he found himself being reminded of Keith’s bayard. He shot one last look at Hunk to see the weapon in question. Still pumped up on adrenaline, Lance didn’t question the _how_ or the _why._ He was filled with an utter disbelief that numbed out anything but shock and a vague tint of awe. Absently, Lance smiled. 

_Keith is so going to freak out when he finds out I can form a freaking Altean broadsword with_ his _bayard._

The fleeting sense of amusement was temporary as he realized his gaze had shifted over to Keith. Lance gave an involuntary wince, forcing his eyes back onto Hunk. He was crouched down and gathering the I’viran princess up into his arms. Lance had stalled then, wanting to hazard a chance at a second apology. He felt guilty, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to give an appropriate apology now. He had to focus. 

The moment he had re-opened the gaping opening in the hull, all hell had broken loose. Lance threw himself headfirst into battle, hoping to catch the attention of any and all fighters nearby. _The more, the better,_ he thought. The more Galra that noticed him the less Hunk had to deal with. All things considered, Lance had gotten considerably lucky. No one expected his sudden escape, so he got a few seconds of edge. 

Blue seemed to catch on to Lance’s distant yet rambling frame of mind. He moved and shot fast enough to avoid lasting damage but did end up getting hit along the way. Even so, she didn’t condemn him for it. She understood, reaching out to him to comfort his nerves. He hated how distracted he was, and _knew_ if he really wanted to keep the people cared about safe, he had to concentrate. One of his legs shook, an outlet for his anxiety, as his hold on the lion’s controls became painfully tight. It had been too much; a sharp, hot burst of pain flew up his arm—a reminder of the cut Lotor had left on the back of his hand. In vacant realization, Lance noticed it had been a deeper cut than he had thought. 

“di…’t hurr… —p!” 

It was incoherent static. The undecipherable noise went on until he got closer. 

“—nd can’t risk it!” the voice cut in. Lance bolted with a start, recognizing the voice with ease. 

“ _Shiro?_ ” Lance shouted. 

“Lance!” said Shiro. 

“Finally,” said Pidge. If she had huffed in annoyance, Lance pretended to not hear it. Now that the three of them were there, they stood a much better chance. Pidge went on and continued to detail the situation to him. 

“It’s been wild without everyone here to help out. I don’t know how much longer we could’ve held out. It’s been two against…” she stopped, seeming to count. Shortly after, she gave up, and if Pidge couldn’t count something, it was a bad, _bad_ sign. “Let’s just say I’m glad you’re back.” 

“God, me too. I’m so glad to hear your voices,” said Lance, rambling as he shot at an oncoming fighter. “Our comms shut off—so did your tracker, Pidge. We found Keith, though. He’s okay. Hunk took him back. We also found Iliana—she, she shot Lotor and saved us—“ 

“What? Slow down. Who’s Lotor?” asked Pidge. 

“The heir to the throne,” Lance shot back, instantly. “ _Zarkon had a kid, Pidge._ ”

“ _Oh my god…_ do you know what that means?” she said. “Someone had se—“

“Lance, take a minute to breathe,” said Shiro. Lance did as he was told. As always, he was there to interrupt any crude language while also offering his unwavering support. If Lance couldn’t see Black a few feet away, he would’ve guessed Shiro was back at the Castle from his voice alone. Lance envied his unbelievable calm. 

“I’m fine, I just…” said Lance. With a few long moments of huffing and puffing, he evened out his quaking breath. 

“Where’s Red? Did you find her yet?” he asked. 

The swarms of fighter pilots seemed to be dying down. A new wave of optimism surged through him and he re-gripped the joystick. Blue formed her jaw blade, and together the two tore through a tight cluster of Galra ships. He was regaining a sense of control. 

“Red’s fine. My readings say they didn’t harm her, so she should be in working order,” said Pidge, pausing. She grunted, caught up in the fight before speaking again. “We don’t have to transport her ourselves, but we had to wait on you guys before we blew the place apart.” 

“If anything she’s more adamant about getting out of here than the rest of us,” Shiro added. Lance guessed he had gotten the information from Pidge. 

So Keith had been right. Red was willing to fight her way out—though it was no surprise. She just needed a little bit of help. 

“So are you ready?” asked Shiro. “Did you retrieve Keith’s bayard as well?” 

“Yes and yes,” said Lance, nodding to himself. 

“Good,” said Pidge. “Let’s blast out another section of the hull and get the hell outta dodge.” 

Shiro let that one slide, though the two teens knew it was only because they were on the battlefield. In any other situation, she would have to reckon with Shiro’s trademark disappointed dad look. Their lions convened on the spot, led there by Pidge, where she shot out another order. 

“I’m going to make sure you two don’t get shot in the back, okay?” she said. 

“All right, we’ll shoot on three,” Shiro said. “One. Two. Three—“

Black and Blue shot in tandem, aiming at the spot Pidge had directed them towards. They hadn’t yet shot through the outer wall entirely when Red was ramming herself up against the weakened dent. Within a moment and continuous slams against the wall, Red was out. The two paladins stopped firing and swirled around to face the remaining Galra fleet. Behind them, the ship was going down. Lance could see why they waited. 

“Get back to base!” said Shiro. 

Red had already shot off, flying in the direction of the Castle. As Lance and the rest of the team followed, the edges of his mouth curved upwards, if ever slightly. For what had to have been the first time ever, Lance could comprehend her need to rush ahead and to act on impulsivity. Right now, more than anything, he wanted to see Keith too.

———

The first thing to happen upon Lance’s return was the hyper-jump. When the lions were docked, Allura had not wasted time—not even to inform the paladins—when it came to the summoning of a wormhole. Lance nearly tumbled out of Blue, having already been on a rush to the cryopods. He didn’t bother checking in at the control room; on their way back their communication systems with Allura and Coran had reconnected, and Shiro had explained what had happened. Pidge added her own thoughts, briefly mentioning her belief that the disconnect between their communication system had been due to the Galra.

 _”No other environmental factors are indicative of a drop in range between the comms. The interference had to have come from them. I’m guessing it’s something new, something in development—“_

Lance drifted after that. He let his eyes fall shut and he let Blue take control until they docked. 

He hit the floor running, wobbling a moment before careening down the hall. Someone had called his name but he ignored it. He didn’t care. His faltering control over his breath flatlined and his lungs shook as erratically as his heart. He was losing himself all over again. He needed to see Keith. He needed to know he would be okay. 

Lance was a millisecond away from colliding with the sliding doors. With a customary hiss and unusual speed, the doors flew upon, as if sensing how Lance reeked of desperation. He tore off his helmet and tossed it aside. It clattered against the floor. He spotted Keith in an instant, positioned between two other pods in use. The latter portion of the thought was lost on him, too absorbed by the boy in front of him. He stepped up the few stairs in one swift movement and pressed his palms to the cold glass. A chilling shiver rang down his spine, but not from shock of the glass’ cold. 

“Oh, Jesus… Ke _ith,_ ” said Lance, his voice cracking. He was glad to be alone with Keith. Lance knew he was crumbling into an embarrassing, emotional mess, and the last thing he wanted was for another teammate to see him break down. 

Knees weak from shaking and overexertion, Lance slid down to the floor. His eyes scanned Keith and he was paralyzed. With each excruciatingly deep slash, darkened or maroon bruise, and painful wound, Lance’s stomach coiled. His eyes lingered over the blood lines running around Keith’s wrists. He winced at the thought of such excessively tight handcuffs. Absently, he noticed his bracelet was miraculously intact. He lingered longer when he stopped at his chest, seeing the spot where Lotor’s blade had dug in. He had to look away for a moment before going on. By the time he had finished his staring, the urge to throw up was overwhelming. 

Lance turned around to sit down, his hands dropping to his side as he pressed his back up against the glass. He brought his hands up again, this time to cover his face. Shifting, he pulled up his legs to rest his elbows on, and let his shivering come to a stop. He didn’t cry, he was too tired. There was nothing left to feel but a relieved emptiness. Pent-up dread oozed out of him, but it wasn’t enough. A weight had roped itself around his heart and lungs, and it would have dragged him down to the floor if he wasn’t already there. 

He didn’t know how long it had taken for him to come to his senses. But, Lance knew, it had been long enough for his body to grow sore. Built up tension in his bones cracked as he scooted to turn and face Keith. Midway through the motion, he laid eyes upon Hunk. Suddenly, the realization he made when he first entered the room hit him full force. Hunk had joined Iliana and Keith in the pods—all because of his gunshot wound. The guilt returned to swirl in his gut, slow and tar-like. The moment his best friend left that godforsaken pod he was going to apologize. 

_It should have been me…_ he thought. Lance had been the one who antagonized the enemy. He had acted out, yet Hunk had been the one who was punished. 

“I can’t do anything right,” he murmured. He ran a hand through his helmet hair. Though he noticed, he could not able to bring himself to care enough to fix it. His gaze returned to Keith. 

Lance thought about their reunion and how far it was from anything he imagined. He couldn’t say the outcome was far up on his list of hopes, but it was not close to the bottom either. At this point, Lance was more than inclined to admit how gone he was for Keith. He had hoped for the halcyon teen romantic drama and not a _bitchslap from reality herself._ Keith wanted to push Lance away, and for the life of him Lance couldn’t figure out why. 

He lost himself to the thought. Keith had always been one to isolate himself, rightfully earning the title ‘loner’ or ‘lone wolf’ from the rest of the team. The only one who seemed to _get_ Keith had been Shiro. Shiro had been Keith’s guardian since the Garrison—much to Lance’s jealousy. His crush was everything he wanted to be; he had even gotten the chance to have Shiro take him under his wing. Even now, at times, he felt like he lagged behind. The only redeeming difference was the change in his relationship with Keith. Where before Keith did not even acknowledge his existence, he had become Keith’s righthand man. The two supported each other now, and Keith’s self-doubt was brought to his attention. So Lance wasn’t the only one with insecurities after all. That fact made him sympathetic, comforted him, and upset him all in one. 

Keith never talked about his family. The only clues Lance had were the hushed rumors back at the Garrison and the father-like position Shiro had taken in Keith’s life. He didn’t ask—it wasn’t his place, but he had a basic idea. Finding out Keith was half-Galra just spurred his theory forward. Keith pushed people away because he was used to others doing it first, it happened with his family and then when he went to the Garrison. It was no secret he wasn’t popular at the Garrison either, but Keith did a good job at hiding his feelings behind apathy, aggression, and impulse. A fist clenched at Lance’s heart. He wished he had let Keith know how he felt sooner, for Keith’s sake. 

_But he should have known,_ the thought came to him in a rush. _I told him._

He was taken back to the planet of Amora, where he had thought Keith had been crushing on Shiro after giving him the bracelet. In retrospect, it was laughable, and Keith had been quick to shut down the idea. One of Lance’s free hands fell to where he had kept his bracelet before he had thrown it away. He missed it. His bigger regret, however, had been his mess of a confession. He hadn’t thought Keith would figure him out so fast, considering how dense he had been beforehand. It was pathetic and mortifying but Keith had taken it in his stride. Despite how much the rejection hurt, Lance had appreciated the boy’s grace. The gentle way he had handled the situation was just as awe-inspiring as the rest of him. 

_But it doesn’t make sense. If he liked me back, why did he reject me? Did he start liking me recently or am I misinterpreting this completely? I mean, the only thing I know for certain is that he’d be down for a date—though that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d want… to go steady._ The last addition hurt, but it was time to face facts. 

Keith was not shallow, but Lance couldn’t blame him for pursuing someone based on looks alone. Though it was flattering, it wasn’t what he truly wanted; he wasn’t interested in a passing fling. He wanted Keith. The memory of his sad excuse of a confession floated to the top of his mind and he came to a realization. 

_Dear god… I can’t believe I was sitting on his_ lap _when I confessed. Why? Why did I do that? What part of me thought that was okay?_ Lance groaned as he dropped his head in his hands once more, face flushing with color. Taking a moment for himself, he dragged his hands down his face before looking up. 

“But… if you don’t feel the same way… why did you say yes when Iliana asked you if you had feelings for me?” he asked out loud, his eyes drilling holes into Keith. 

_I need to talk to him myself,_ Lance sighed internally. _Why can’t the pods heal faster?_

“How are you _still_ on that?” said an unsympathetic voice. 

Lance shrieked. He flipped around in a whirlwind, backing up until he planted his back across the glass of Keith’s pod. Unconfined laughter erupted from the speaker, whom Lance glared at. Shiro fell behind, having decidedly placed himself by the entrance of the room. 

“ _Pidge!_ ” Lance howled. 

“Don’t worry, we’ve been here a while,” she said, grinning. 

“That’s exactly what worries me!” 

“Oh well.” 

The slight lull in conversation brought Lance’s attention to his friends’ state. They both looked unharmed from the fight, wearing casual clothes paired with slightly damp hair. Lance must have been in the room for a while if his team had time to shower and change. He felt self-conscious as Pidge sat next to him, still covered in blood and sweat from battle. From across the room, Shiro noticed. 

“You’re covered in cuts,” said Shiro, stepping in to sit on the other side of Lance. 

“And what happened to your neck?” asked Pidge. She reached up with a hand, peering at him with a seriousness that had Lance smacking her hand away. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Lance, if you want to spend some time in one of the pods, none of us would blame—“ said Shiro. Lance briskly cut him off. 

“I’m _fine,_ ” he repeated. With a pause, he added hesitantly, “I’m… I want to wait for Hunk and Keith.” 

“But mostly Keith,” said Pidge matter-of-factly. He inhaled sharply. 

“You’re a gremlin, you know that?” 

“So I’ve been told,” she said with a playful grin. 

Lance sighed in defeat and looked down at his hands. The blood on his one hand had soaked the dark fabric to the bone. His glove squelched from over saturation when he tested his reflexes, pulling his hand into a fist before releasing it. He winced at the revived pain as it shot up his wrist and arm, though was quick to cover it up with a cough.

“We’ll have the debriefing once everyone’s healthy and conscious, okay? There’s no need for us to worry about it right now,” said Shiro. The debriefing hadn’t even come to mind. 

“That isn’t what’s been bothering me…” Lance said. He returned to picking at the torn shreds of fabric around his hand, not meeting his teammates’ eyes. In sync, Shiro and Pidge said virtually the same line, save for the last word. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” said Shiro. 

“Do you want to talk about him?” said Pidge. 

Lance groaned. At least Shiro did him the favor of feigning ignorance. He let his head fall back against the glass, able to spot the top of Keith’s mess of a mullet. His fingers itched with the need to run a hand through that unkempt hair. 

“I don’t know… I feel like anytime I start to understand Keith, he confuses me all over again,” Lance admitted, his slanted posture looking dejected. “I can’t tell if I’m just an idiot or—“

“Oh, you’re an idiot all right, but so is Keith,” said Pidge. She sounded a bit too chipper. “You two really are perfect for each other.” 

“…thanks. You really know how to comfort a heartbroken man,” murmured Lance. Pidge scoffed. 

“Your boy likes you, what on Earth could have you heartbroken?” she said. 

“Pidge,” Shiro warned, “be gentle…” 

“I just… I don’t—I don’t know how to interpret his feelings. What if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do?” asked Lance. 

He stared up at the high, vaulted ceiling. The silence grew stilted, and it became apparent that they were waiting on Lance to continue. Instead, Lance stood up. He began pacing, his gaze falling down to the floor as he made circles in front of the pods. Pidge and Shiro remained sitting noiselessly on the stairs. 

“What if I want a relationship but Keith isn’t interested? I think… I think that would be even worse. I don’t know if I could handle some kind of in-between limbo, but I don’t want to pressure him into anything he doesn’t want either,” Lance babbled, gesticulating randomly with his hands. “I just want him to be happy! But… even if that means just being his friend, what if… what if… I can’t handle myself?” 

“Lance. I can’t speak for Keith, but from what I’ve seen… he really likes you,” said Shiro. 

“I… I don’t know, you guys. What if I’m not… enough?” asked Lance. 

“Dude, come on. You know that’s not true. And did your dense brain forget what Keith said, like, however many days ago? About how badly he wanted to—…” she said, coming to a slow stop. Lance didn’t need to glance over to know Shiro was glaring at her. “He wants to get in your pants, man.” 

Lance went red, stopping in place as he was sent back in time to the moment in question. He opened his mouth, having to work his jaw a few times, before he could speak. It was the most mortifying and simultaneously most arousing thing that he had ever lived through. _Keith would never let me live that down if he knew._ He stammered at first, unable to say anything coherent. 

“I—but, w-wait… that wasn’t just like—he wasn’t—he was really—“ stuttered Lance. 

“Yes, Lance, he would indeed like to fu—“ said Pidge. 

“ _Language!_ ” said Shiro. 

“Have a sleepover where both of you forget your pajamas and share a bed,” Pidge finished. Lance watched their team leader, expecting an oncoming rebuke. In reality, though, neither him nor Pidge anticipated his actual response. 

“…good enough.” 

“Wait. Seriously?” said Lance. 

“I’m too tired. At this point I couldn’t care less if you cuddled or banged, I just want to get a good night’s sleep where I’m not reminded of how dumb you two are,” said Shiro. 

“Touché,” said Lance. 

“I still think you should at least wrap your hand up and get out of your armor,” Shiro went on, the ever-concerned dad he was. “You can always come back here later.” 

Lance faced them. He dithered on, debating whether or not to stay. In the end though, he resigned himself to Shiro’s suggestion. He gave a nod and weak sigh, signifying his agreement. 

“Yeah… yeah, okay.” 

On his way out, he made a stop to pick up his helmet, then another stop by the weapons Hunk had brought back. As an afterthought, Lance reached down to pluck out Keith’s bayard from the pile. He ran his hand over it before looking up at Shiro, suddenly sheepish. 

“Do you think he’d be okay with… with me taking this?” he asked. 

“I do,” said Shiro, giving him a small but compassionate smile. 

“Okay,” Lance hummed. He went back to looking at Keith’s before dropping his hand, placing the bayard on the opposite side of his own. 

“Oh, and Pidge?” said Lance. 

“Yeah?”

“The extra gun Hunk brought back, it’s for you. It was the weapon Lotor used before he was killed,” he explained. “I freaked out because it knocked Hunk down in one shot, but Hunk told me it just has this weird… _shocking_ quality. He wanted to show it to you and maybe recreate it, I guess.” 

Hearing that, Pidge rushed over. Her hands went to brandish the weapon, her ingenious spark flaring behind her specs. She looked up at Lance and smiled brightly. 

“That’s so cool, thanks Lance! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to disassemble this baby,” she said, thrilled. “I might be able to get something from it to show Hunk when he wakes up.” 

Lance followed her out, zoning out as Pidge rambled to herself along the way. The whole time, his hands skimmed over the red paladin’s bayard. When they split up to go their separate ways, Pidge faltered, then stepped in and gave Lance a side hug. The fleeting contact came at an awkward angle but Lance smiled nonetheless. He knew acts of physical affection were as rare with her as they were with Keith. He had learned to appreciate them. She gave one last comment before leaving. 

“You two will figure it out. You always do.”

———

Lance spent the first day waiting for Keith to wake up on the training deck. He had tended and bandaged his wounds—excluding the bruises around his neck—and was more than capable of fighting. His past self would have laughed at the prospect of voluntary exercise, but he would take anything over steeping in his own impatience. Not to mention fighting reminded him of a certain mulleted boy. He felt closer to him this way.

He stood in the center of the deck and wielded Keith’s bayard sans armor. To his frustration, it refused to form its Altean broadsword from earlier. In fact, the bayard seemed to be ignoring him entirely. 

_There goes my dream of beating Keith at his own game._

Lance shook the bayard and shouted at nothing in particular before dropping to the floor. Why couldn’t he recreate the broadsword? He sat, cross-legged, and pouted. 

He left the bayard alone after that. 

He missed Keith.

———

Lance lost his appetite when dinner came around. He didn’t feel like joining the rest of the crew either. So, he resorted to walking down the halls aimlessly. _Very productive, I know._ When he neared the room Keith was being kept in, he passed it, turning his head away. If he went in, he doubted he would be able to leave a second time.

———

When he couldn’t sleep that night, he visited the observation deck, tapping his fingers against his thigh. His anxiety had grown threefold since he had last seen Keith and his thoughts kept urging him to overanalyze. He needed closure.

Lance spent the rest of the night staring out into space.

———

The next day, Hunk woke up. Lance had been the last to know too; he had slept in after a night of staying up. Coran had come by his room multiple times, finally waking Lance up on his fourth try. Thankfully he had rewrapped fresh gauze over his wounds before sleeping last night, so he only had his face mask to worry about. He had been tempted to abandon his skincare routine too, but didn’t want to show up with his sheet mask on. Rushing to wash up, he followed Coran to the pods. But when presented with crossing the threshold into the room, Lance stopped.

He silently wished they could have met in the common room. Seeing Hunk entailed seeing Keith, and Lance wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for that yet. Having just woken up, his mind felt too weak to handle the sight of a battered Keith. 

“Come on, my boy! Time to get a move on,” said Coran, directly into Lance’s ear. The boy jolted upward, properly snapped out of his daze. 

Lance entered the room without another hitch. 

Lance acknowledged three things when he entered the room, and ignored the fourth one. The first was that everyone was smiling. The second was the unjustified anger that flared up at the sight of his smiling teammates—because _Keith was still in a pod._ It was a thought that was swiftly followed by an overwhelming sense of guilt. The fourth, tossed aside thought was a reiteration of the third; _Keith was still in a pod._ He kept his gaze directed at Hunk. Lance must have looked off enough to catch Hunk’s gaze, since when his friend faced him, his smile faltered. 

“Lance? You all right?” asked Hunk. When Lance nodded and threw on the best toothy grin he could muster, Hunk went on. 

“Then get over here and give me a hug!” said Hunk. 

He crossed the floor and embraced Hunk, but his heart wasn’t in it. It felt wrong to celebrate with one of their teammates unconscious a few feet beside them. Though he was thrilled for his friend’s recovery, it was marred by the emptiness losing Keith had brought him. When he thought he had gotten away with his little faux pas, Hunk leaned into Lance’s shoulder. He spoke quietly enough for no one but Lance to hear him. 

“Hey, let’s talk after this, yeah?” he whispered. 

The two broke away, and with a wordless glance, Lance agreed. He still hadn’t gotten the chance to properly apologize. Hunk turned to join Pidge and Coran in a lively conversation about the new Galra they acquired while rescuing Keith. A jolt ran down Lance’s spine at the mention of the red paladin. He was thankful his back was to the pods. 

_Keith is right there,_ a suspiciously persuasive voice told him. _You could turn around right now and see him. It’s so easy. You’re right there. Why haven’t you turned around?_

Lance could find Hunk later. Hunk probably wanted space to get dressed and eat, too. So, with his mind made up, Lance slinked away before the lull in conversation would draw attention to himself. Everyone was preoccupied; no one noticed him leave. 

Lance locked himself away in his room and played video games for the rest of the day.

———

Iliana exited her pod next. She woke up around three a.m. Earth-time, where she was ushered to the infirmary by Coran. There the princess was pressured into resting in bed and given a bowl of goo. Lance woke up a few hours later, only to demand Allura and Coran to chain her to her bed. They refused, and despite all concerns he raised, Iliana remained unfettered. It was safe to consider Lance notably pissed.

_”She’s the reason Keith got kidnapped in the first place!” Lance had shouted, uncaring that Iliana could hear._

_“The girl has made a mistake, as we all have,” Allura shot back, deceptively calm._

_“She’s apologized many times since she came to consciousness, and she seems genuine enough,” Shiro had added._

_“Keith could have died!”_

_“You seem to have forgotten,” said Hunk, entering the room. Lance froze. “She’s also the reason Keith is still alive—the reason we’re_ all _alive. She shot Lotor, what more could you ask?”_

_Lance had looked down at his feet. He still hadn’t apologized to Hunk. He guessed now wasn’t the time anyway. He sighed, though it came out more exasperated and angered than tired. In all honesty, he didn’t want to forgive Iliana._

He left the infirmary after that, passing Hunk and the salver of food he must have baked for Iliana.

———

Keith exited his pod the next day.

It happened at the tail end of lunch. Lance had skipped breakfast, prompting a visit from Shiro and how maintaining his health was crucial to forming Voltron. Lance had to hold back a telling sigh. In order to speed along Shiro’s dietary lecture, he promised to show up for the team’s next meal. True to his word, Lance showed. He hadn’t realized how hungry he had been until Coran laid out the bowls of goo. His stomach rumbled unabashedly. 

“ _Woah._ How many meals did you have to skip to find _that_ appealing?” said Pidge. Lance scoffed. 

“No, for real,” she said with a small smile. “I’m asking for the sake of science.” 

As he was about to quip back—because he was _totally_ capable of witty comebacks—an odd ringing emanated from Pidge. Her eyes went wide, and her hands flew down to her pockets to pull out a pellucid, rectangular device. She swiped at the on-screen notification with her thumb and lifted her chin to stare openly at Allura and Coran. When Lance looked over, he noticed Allura wore a similar expression at the head of the table. He felt lost. 

“What? What’s going on?” asked Lance, his unease seeping into his otherwise mild tone. 

Shiro was already standing, whereas Hunk was pushing out of his chair. Their strange behavior inflamed Lance’s concern. He couldn’t tell if he missed an important update meeting where he was supposed to know what this alarm meant, or if everyone was on edge with Keith in a pod. 

“Keith is waking up… early,” said Allura. It was clear she was choosing her words carefully but Lance was already panicking. He hadn’t even realized he was standing, leaning forward with his palms down on the table to stabilize himself. 

“Wh-why? Is he okay? Isn’t that dangerous? Can that even happen?” asked Lance. His nerves always materialized as rambling; he hated how obvious his nervous tick was. Keith had tamer habits that were significantly harder to take notice of. 

“Well, I suppose it’s a possibility…” she murmured, enunciating slowly. “It was something we considered when we took into account the potential aftereffects of the serum due to Keith’s half-Galra heritage.” 

“We?” Lance repeated, raising an accusatory brow. 

“I—“ Pidge stepped up, bringing up a placating hand. “I suggested monitoring him, since his mental state could affect the healing process too. That’s all.” 

“And after being imprisoned on a Galra cruiser and interrogated by Lotor, I endorsed this as well. Being tortured takes a toll on the body as well as the mind,” said Shiro. Though it was said more as a logical matter-of-fact, it was also, without question, spoken from personal experience. 

“We were just looking out for him,” said Pidge. 

Lance had heard enough. Bolting out the dining room, he barreled down to the pods. He just wanted to confirm Keith was recovering in person. And if he wasn’t, Lance was going to do everything in his power to force Keith back into a pod. Keith annihilated in hand-to-hand combat and could probably benchpress Zarkon if he tried, but Lance didn’t care if manhandling Keith equated to signing his death warrant. Now wasn’t the time for precautions. 

Except, Keith was still in the pod. 

He had slowed to a walk, positioning himself in front of Keith’s unconscious form. He looked significantly better, though his skin remained discolored and raw in certain areas. The worst of his wounds seemed to have healed. However, Keith was still very much out. A worrying spiral of confusion curled in his gut. Had he been lied to? No, the team wouldn’t do that to him. So what was going on? Should he be more or less concerned that Keith wasn’t waking up like Allura said he was? Keith’s eyes fluttered, but ultimately remained closed. His hands came up to touch the glass, but before Lance could make contact, the screen fell away. Keith collapsed forward, eyes still shut and straight into Lance’s open arms. His head fell against Lance’s chest and his hands instinctively wrapped around Keith’s limp body. 

“Keith, buddy?” he said. 

The other boy grunted, the sound hazed and rough from lack of use. Slowly, he came to. Lance felt the way his muscles moved against him, joints cracking as he pushed against Lance to stand on his own. Lance let him pull away, but dithered in dropping his hands that held onto Keith’s waist. Either Keith was too out of it to notice, or didn’t care at all. Personally, Lance prayed for the latter. 

Keith tilted his chin upwards to level his gaze with Lance’s. His hands clenched and unclenched the fabric at the rim of Lance’s shirt near his stomach. When cold fingertips skimmed brown skin, Lance inhaled a sharp breath of surprise. Deep violet eyes scanned over Lance, glazed over before widening. 

“ _Wh—_ ” said Keith, then stopped as his voice cracked. He raised a hand and gently pressed two fingers to the underside of Lance’s jaw. Keith then leaned in and inspected the purple splotches his fingers grazed over. He cleared his throat and decidedly tried again. 

“What happened? Did I miss an attack?” he asked, looking up. 

Suddenly sheepish, Lance brought up one of his hands to scratch at the back of his neck, breaking eye contact with Keith. Though he had wrapped up most of his injuries, there wasn’t much he could do for the bruises of finger imprints and bloody crescents splattered all along the expanse of his neck. That is, besides get in a pod. He hoped Keith didn’t push the subject. 

“You were pretty out of it back on the cruiser… but no. No, after we—I mean, I—so valiantly saved you, Iliana shot down Lotor and we got the hell out of dodge,” Lance explained. Keith’s eyes didn’t leave his face, despite Lance not meeting his gaze. He still hadn’t pulled away. “We hyper-jumped once we got you and Red out of there. You’ve been in a pod ever since,” he finished. 

“Then how did you get these?” Keith asked. His fingers trailed over his throat, and Lance knew Keith could tell when he swallowed. Before Lance dropped his own hand from the back of his neck, he took Keith’s and pulled it away from his skin. He dropped Keith’s hand back down to his stomach. 

“I… fighting Lotor and getting out unscathed was a long shot to begin with…” Lance muttered and redirected Keith’s attention. “Everyone’s okay, including Iliana.” Keith nodded, gaze turning pensive. 

“How long was I out for?” 

“A few days…”

“Why didn’t you use one of the pods, then?” Keith asked. Lance was tempted to lie, but ditched the thought altogether. He let out a resigned sound before answering. 

“I didn’t because I wanted to be here when you woke up,” he said. 

“Lance…” 

He was evidently upset at Lance’s admission but said nothing else. The two stared at one another, and neither attempted to revive the conversation. Something changed, then. And Lance was unsure about how to read the shift in atmosphere. There was something familiar to it, but at the same time, there was a new feel to the air. The newness to it made it fragile, and it wasn’t long before the tenuous atmosphere was broken. 

“Keith, you really are awake. How are you feeling?” said Shiro. 

Lance’s spine snapped up straight as he stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. His back had been facing the entrance so he hadn’t noticed the team enter. He noticed Iliana’s blissful absence but didn’t comment on it. Dark eyes fogged over as they watched him move, the confusion apparent in Keith’s narrowing gaze. There was another shift then—something Lance didn’t quite catch. The look was gone before Lance could accurately read more into it, and Keith turned to face the team. 

“Weird, I guess, but not bad,” Keith admitted. “I’m good to fight if—“

“Oh, no, no, that’s hardly necessary,” Allura cut in. “We’ve sequestered the castle in a sector far from the Galra. Shiro and I have decided the team has earned a well-deserved break to recover—at least, for now. So enjoy this time, paladins.” 

Allura not pressing the team to train was off-putting, but Lance wasn’t complaining. He’d take any break he could get. He was willing to bet he’d be spending most of his time persuading _Keith_ to not train, but it would be a worth-it effort. Pidge and Hunk pushed past Lance and surrounded Keith, enveloping him in a warm and genuine group hug. 

“Welcome back, dumbass,” Pidge muttered into the fabric of Keith’s monochromatic, elastic suit. 

“We’re glad you’re okay,” said Hunk. Keith huffed, giving the duo a small smile. 

“Thank you, guys. It’s good to be back,” he said. A prosthetic hand came down on Keith’s shoulder, and he looked up at Shiro. 

“Let’s talk after all this,” Shiro told him. The words sent Lance reeling, reminded not for the first time that he hadn’t expressed his guilt in what had happened to Hunk. He couldn’t hear anything else. 

_“Hey, let’s talk after this, yeah?”_ Hunk’s words echoed in his head. 

He looked to his best friend, whose gaze was focused on Keith. When this reunion was over, he was going to get Hunk alone and apologize, then he was going to get his advice. Hunk came off as approachable and soft and Lance would need to take a page from his book before he talked to Keith. He couldn’t handle this by himself anymore. He was done being stuck in this emotional limbo that drove him crazy at night. Having people he cared for was a heartwarming thought he could lean into when he was stressed back on Earth. And, he decided, there was no reason for that to change in space. Fixing this mess was his priority, and the team as a whole would be better off once he did. 

When Keith got the chance to turn back to Lance, the blue paladin was gone.

———

Lance waited in Hunk’s room for his return. It was a habit that had developed over the years they had spent out in space. Anytime Lance was nervous or overwhelming homesick, he would drop by Hunk’s place and plop himself down on the floor. Some nights they spent hours talking nonstop. Other days they would sit in bed without a sound, staring out the nearest window and enjoying the presence of someone who understood nauseating vulnerability.

“You here to talk?” 

Lance turned to the doorway, where Hunk stood with an understanding smile. Even now, Hunk didn’t judge him for taking his time in getting here. Lance appreciated his patience and smiled back. 

“Actually, I’m here to tell you I’m sorry,” he said. Hunk’s smile dropped. 

“What?” said Hunk. “What for?” 

“For getting you shot,” he said. Lance kept his hands clasped in his crossed lap. Immediately, Hunk acted, dismissive of Lance’s apology. 

“Nope, no. I’m not having _any_ of that,” Hunk said, still managing to berate him with kindness. “We’re in an intergalactic war, Lance, and you didn’t shoot me. It wasn’t your fault, okay?”

“Man, c’mon—“

“No. Not happening,” said Hunk as he shook his head. 

“Hunk—“

“I said no. You have no reason to apologize. Without you, we would’ve been in the same ship as Keith. Literally,” Hunk said in earnest. Lance sighed. He propped his elbows up on his knees and dropped his head in his palms. 

“Hunk…” he repeated, more dejected than the first. Hunk didn’t interrupt him this time. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Hunk was sitting beside Lance on the floor now. He reached over and tugged Lance into his chest, effectively hugging him. Lance raised his hands to pull at the roots of his hair, but kept his face covered by his wrists. Hunk patted his back in the meantime, not pushing Lance to speak but waiting for when he was ready to. He really was a gentle giant. 

“I feel lost… I don’t wanna mess up what Keith and I have, but I’ve done it before and I just—I’m worried I’m going to do something stupid or… or that I won’t be good enough and that once he realizes that, he’ll leave—but how _can_ he leave if we’re not even a thing to begin with? And what if he doesn’t want to be a thing—“ Hunk tightened his grip just enough to catch Lance’s attention, a silent plea to stop his ramblings. 

“Okay, stop. And breathe,” said Hunk. He paused and waited until Lance obliged, slowing down so as to not hyperventilate. 

“Good. Now you can listen to me,” Hunk said with a warm smile. “You may act childish sometimes but you _are_ enough. You’re mature when you need to be and I know for a fact that you’re capable of getting along with Keith—maybe more. You just need to do what you’re best at. _Talk_ to him.” 

Lance leaned heavily into his friend, soaking in Hunk’s words. Hunk seemed to be holding back, and though Lance was curious enough to ask, he was too absorbed by his fear to question him. His focus drifted back to Keith, and he couldn’t help but think about everything he wanted to say. 

“Yeah… yeah, okay.”

———

Lance disappeared before Keith could swallow his tongue to choke out an apology. Hunk disappeared shortly afterwards, and it had Keith panicking in place. Shiro noticed, as he always did, and pulled him aside.

“Ready for that talk?” Shiro asked. Everyone else had generally filed out of the room by then—save Coran, who was busy cleaning out the pods. 

“Uh…” Keith murmured, his attention still divided. Shiro gave him a knowing look. “Why? What’s there to talk about?” 

“You were tortured, Keith. I know what that does to a person.” 

“I… I don’t know,” Keith sighed. “I guess I can’t really focus on anything else right now, I just… I messed up, bad.” 

“What makes you say that?” asked Shiro. 

“You were there, Shiro. You heard what I told Iliana before I—before I was taken. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since it happened. Everyone heard what I said. Everyone. You know what that means?” 

“That you can finally talk out your feelings with Lance?” he said, deadpanning. 

“No, I… I need to keep myself in check. I need to get over him, or else… _fuck,_ ” Keith said, mostly to himself. He lifted his head to stare hopelessly at Shiro. 

“I’m so screwed, Shiro. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Yes, you do,” said Shiro. “You always have. You don’t need my help for this.” 

Keith went quiet. He knew where Shiro was going with this, and that he was going to push Keith to open up to Lance, but he couldn’t take it. Not from Shiro. It felt like ages ago when Lance confessed to liking someone—obviously to liking _Shiro_ —back on Amora. He knew falling for Lance meant outright rejection. He _knew_ that. Without a doubt, Keith had to move on. He didn’t stand a chance. When he smiled, he felt empty. 

“You know what? You’re right,” said Keith, stepping back. “I do know what I have to do.” 

Shiro let him go, entirely unaware of Keith’s intentions. Keith was going to stay true to his word; he was going to get over the boy he loved. The less awkward he could make this for Lance, the better.

———

Things changed for the worse after that.

Anytime Lance approached Keith, the boy went out of his way to avoid him. It hurt, but it puzzled him more than anything. Had he done something wrong? Keith had begun spending more time with Iliana too. He visited her in the infirmary, and once she was well enough to walk on her own, she became one of the other people Keith fled to to get away from Lance when everyone else was busy. The worst part was how Keith didn’t try to hide his flagrant evasion. 

Any form of bonding and mealtimes weren’t quiet, though. Iliana had even joined in, making sure to place herself between Keith and him. Each time it happened, he would glare openly at her, but she paid him no mind. It was infuriating to not understand what was going on. People always looked down at him, even back at the Garrison. No matter how hard he tried, it was useless. 

_Maybe I was wrong about this._

He didn’t interact face-to-face with Keith again until later that night. Sleeping had been a huge issue the past few days, but with everything else piled on top of it, he didn’t really notice. He hadn’t bothered getting in his pajamas or do his skincare routine either, certain he wouldn’t get any rest tonight either. He was in his room, lying on his bed, and staring at his ceiling blankly when there was a knock on his door. Thinking it was Hunk, or perhaps Pidge, he scooted off his bed and walked over, pressing his palm against the bio-scanner by his door. Even though the first person on his mind was Keith, he was simultaneously the last person he would have expected to see. 

“Mullet?” said Lance. His voice had unexpectedly raised an octave; he internally cringed at the sound. 

“Oh, so we’re back to that nickname now, are we?” Keith asked. For a moment, there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, right before he shifted back to his otherwise unreadable expression. Lance didn’t know how to respond. 

“Did… can I help you?” Lance questioned. 

He fidgeted anxiously in place. The need to say something was almost as all-encompassing as the need to appear less like the nervous mess he was. Keith faltered at his reply, the conversation growing stilted as he worked his jaw. The paucity of banter between them seemed to destroy whatever cockiness Keith had in his first statement. 

“I, uh… Shiro told me you had my bayard,” said Keith. Color drained from Lance’s face as he realized his bayard was still by his bedside. The color returned instantly as he turned away, crimson flushing high in his cheeks. 

“O- _oh,_ yeah, uh…” he stammered. Lance crossed to room to snatch up the bayard, returning to Keith and outstretching his arm as far as it would go. In one swift movement, Keith took it from Lance’s hand, acting careful enough to not make skin to skin contact. 

“Why did you take this?” Keith asked, not accusatory but genuinely agog. 

“Yeah, about that! I actually reached for it during my fight with Lotor—you know, before Iliana shot him—and it formed into this badass Altean broadsword. I mean, I kinda sucked, since I didn’t really know how to wield a sword like you do, but it all worked out in the end!” Lance rambled. His jitteriness was coming out through his rush to finish a sentence; it needed to stop. So, like the dumbass he was, he continued to let words tumble from his running mouth. 

“But yeah, I took it because I wanted to see if I could do it again, but… it didn’t really, uh, yeah…” he tapered off. 

Sometime between the point where he started talking and stopped, Keith had given him the softest look he had ever seen in his life. His eyes lit up with a brightness that blinded Lance for a good few seconds. For the first time, Lance found something that could actually shut him up. Pidge would be thrilled. 

“You were able to use my bayard?” he asked, sounding so explicitly hushed and fond Lance could barely manage a response. 

“Uh-huh,” Lance said, throat tight. 

“Wow, I wish I could’ve seen that…” said Keith. There was so much awe and regret laid out bare in his tone that felt like he was choking. In that moment, he was teleported back to the dance floor on Opwaen, where he nearly confessed to Keith in Spanish. 

_Estoy enamorado de ti._ He blushed at the very thought, but right then, with the way Keith was looking at him, it was all he wanted to say. Lance opened his mouth. 

“I actually wanted to bring up… what I said right before I got captured,” said Keith, beating him to the punch. It was not the first time and it certainly would not be the last. 

“Oh, I… so did I,” Lance said, lamely. At that, Keith raised his free hand and closed his eyes. 

“Wait. Before… before you say anything, I just wanted to apologize,” said Keith. Lance didn’t think he could say anything anyway as the verbal whiplash hit, befuddlement and discontent swirling together to sew his mouth shut. 

“It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to say that,” Keith finished. The ‘that I liked you’ was unsaid, but clear nonetheless. Lance… was lost. 

Honestly, the moment reminded him of the first time he was stuck in the invisible maze, with only Keith’s voice to lead him. He was trying to read Keith, to follow his clues and undertones, but he kept on hitting walls. Not only did he hurt himself, he would frustrate Keith in the process. For someone who prided himself on being a smooth-talker, he _sucked_ at having a heart to hearts with Keith Kogane. Questions pinged against other questions within his mind, shutting down any coherent thought processes. 

_Does this mean Keith doesn’t really like me? Maybe just not in the way I want? Maybe he just thinks he’d be nothing more than a one night stand? Which, god—god that couldn’t be_ more _wrong._

“Keith, wait—“

“Please don’t,” said Keith, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Please don’t talk to me for a while, okay? I just… I need some time.” 

Lance didn’t know what was happening. So much had gone wrong so fast and any semblance of control was slipping through the cracks between his fingers. He was reaching out to stop Keith, but the red paladin was already halfway down the hall. His mouth was already open in form of an ‘o’ but he was unable to form words; he couldn’t even shout. 

He needed someone with a logical side to set him straight. Lance was dumbfounded to the point that he couldn’t even make a pun based on that last sentence. That’s when he knew: he needed Hunk. 

Hunk wasn’t in his room. Lance knew because his door was locked—Hunk wasn’t the type to lock his doors. They were always open for everyone. It was one of the many sweet sentiments that spoke volumes of Hunk’s kind personality. Next, he went to the kitchen. Occasionally, when Hunk was homesick or down, he would bake. On nights like those, Lance would always join him, helping where Hunk would allow and chatting through it all. 

He wasn’t there either. 

_Third time’s the charm,_ he told himself, wandering the dim halls. 

The third and penultimate place Hunk would go was to the docking hangar to care for and upgrade Yellow. It tended to be in tandem with Pidge’s routine, where sleepless nights and early mornings were spent between the three of them—the OG Garrison trio. It reminded Lance of good times, times he very much missed. 

The hangar fell flat of his expectations. 

The designated tech room was his final stop. Hunk and Pidge spent hours on hours working nonstop on projects, sometimes together and other times alone. When all else failed, Lance could always count on finding the team geniuses here. All new inventions incorporated into the lions and castle the past few years were built in that very room. It was insanely awe-inspiring, when Lance really thought about it. 

He entered the room and passed Pidge’s array of tables, where tech was stacked on top of tech. He briefly recognized Lotor’s gun disassembled on the corner of one of the tables, tipping precariously over the edge. As he walked by, he pressed it closer towards the center. A loud, bubbling sound burst through the quiet and Lance honed in on it. Hunk kept towards the back, so not seeing him yet didn’t make Lance lose hope. The sound, he hoped, originated from Hunk and not Pidge or—god forbid—Coran. He couldn’t handle that ginger mustache and bouncy perkiness at this hour. 

As he neared the back, he noticed Hunk in front of a makeshift lab, with testing tubes filled to the brim with colored fluids that Lance didn’t recognize. Liquid could be heard sizzling in the background, paired with twirling tubes and PVC pipes connecting to other barrels and test tubes, and the entire set looked like it belonged to a mad scientist. It was fitting. 

Speak of the devil, Hunk turned around, hearing Lance’s entrance as he tripped over a wedge of metal. Most of it was hidden underneath one of Pidge’s tables, and it was the iceberg that sent Lance sinking to the ground. He yelped as he hit the floor right beside Hunk’s feet. The man in question looked down at him, eyes wide behind safety googles. 

“Lance? What’re you doing up?” he asked, offering Lance his hand. Lance gratefully took it and gave a shy smile. 

“I talked to Keith…” 

“Oh yeah? How’d that go?” 

The look in his eyes was enough. Hunk had pulled up a spare stool from underneath his table and patted it, proffering a place for Lance to sit. As he moved to sit down, Hunk tugged off his goggles, directing all of his attention to his distressed friend. Instantly, Lance spilled everything. Each detail based on Keith’s behavior over the past few days fell from his lips, and Hunk stayed attentive throughout the whole thing. It was exhausting but good. He needed this. 

“I don’t get why he said that though,” finished Lance, in reference to his most recent conversation with Keith. “I’m not crazy, right? Like, what was all that about?” 

Hunk’s gaze fell, but not enough to hide the downturn of the corners of his mouth. His hesitation was palpable, but Lance didn’t push. Hunk deserved the kind of friend he was to others, so, in return, Lance was patient. Admittedly, it was hard waiting as his eyes drooped, dangerously close to falling into the void of sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he had talked. Absently, he wondered when the last time he slept was. It didn’t hit him until now, but since it finally had, it hit him like a truck. 

“It’s because back when he was imprisoned on Lotor’s cruiser, he said you didn’t love him… under the effects of the serum,” Hunk said, pausing. “I only know because Keith told me when I brought him back to the castle.” 

“W…wait, what? How… I don’t…?” stammered Lance. 

“Do you really love him?” 

“Wh—yes! Jesus, Hunk. Of course I do. Why… why would Keith say that? _How_ could Keith say that? I don’t understand—“ 

“Lance, wait. I think… that I know how,” said Hunk, a bit timid at the least. He rotated in place, facing his mini-lab and reaching for a small glass flask. A familiar, glossy liquid filled the bottom inch of the cylinder. 

“Hmm?” Lance droned, inspecting the container. “Am I supposed to be getting something here?” It took a moment to put a name to a substance, but as Hunk pulled out another liquid, it hit Lance. 

“Hunk, what’re you doing with the truth serum?” asked Lance, suspicion lacing his voice. His drowsiness had definitely vanished now, replaced by concern. Hunk was pouring water into the rest of the flask before capping it and shaking the container. 

“It’s a diluted version. Much, much more diluted. Now, drink this,” he said, pouring out a small, almost insignificant bit into a glass and handing it to Lance. Lance outright refused. 

_Has Hunk lost his mind? Was he the first to succumb to space madness?_

“What? No way, man. That stuff is—“ Lance started. 

“I did the math with Pidge. This will work for one question—for real this time,” Hunk explained. “I’m just going to ask you something.” 

Lance had a feeling he knew where this was going, but he already proved how much he cared about Keith. There was no doubt in his mind that his feelings were true. Sighing, he gave in. His trust in Hunk overrode his internal voice of concern, and he knocked back the drink like it was a shot. The back of his mind wished it was. 

Hunk wasted no time in asking one insanely intricate question about the machinery Hunk was working on behind him. Lance tilted his head to the side to eye the ancillary apparatus, blinking slowly at the smooth fusing of different metals. For the life of him, he didn’t know. So, he said just that, the truth being forced out of him in a way Lance had come to hate. 

“Uh… I don’t know?” he said guilelessly. “Why’re you asking me and not Pidge?” Hunk broke out into a giant smile. 

“I was right.” 

“What’re you talking about?” Lance asked, more perplexed now than he had been when he walked in. “Hunk I’m already confused and frustrated with what’s going on between me and Keith, I can’t—“ 

“Lance, Keith was speaking _his_ truth,” said Hunk, as if the simple sentence explained everything. He felt stupid.

“Sorry, could you elaborate a bit?” he asked and shot him a weak smile. Hunk returned it with one of his own. 

“The truth serum doesn’t make you speak the truths of the universe, otherwise you would have answered my question without knowing what you were saying.” He paused when Lance didn’t say anything and put down the flask he was holding. “It’s about _perceived_ truths. Which means—“

It clicked for Lance. 

“Keith doesn’t think I love him,” Lance finished. 

He knew it was the truth. It didn’t matter that he thought Keith already knew. After their time on that one planet Amora where Lance ditched his matching bracelet and ended up confessing to Keith, he thought he had gotten rejected. But now, he realized how dense Keith really was—how dense the _both_ of them were. 

_That absolute idiot._

_I love him so, so much._

“Hunk, I need your help one last time,” Lance found himself saying, spurred on by having the pieces finally fall into place. 

_And I’m going to make sure he knows it._

———

Keith awoke to alarms blaring, with a startling voice shouting over the loudspeakers. He vaulted out of his bed, throwing on his armor and bounding down to the main deck. The realization that it was _Lance’s_ voice over the intercom was belated but startling nonetheless. The rest of the team was not far behind, the only two to have beaten him to the control room being Lance and Hunk. It was another startling realization in a string of bewildering events.

“Lance, Hunk, what the hell’s going on?” Keith said, stepping up on the raised platform. “Are we under attack?” 

The rest of the team, Iliana included, crowded Lance and Hunk. Keith stayed directly across from Lance—the furthest he could be while staying involved. For once, Lance seemed to waver under the spotlight. It was an unnerving sight to add to the list of oddities he had seen since he had woken up. At the mention of sleep, the debate of time came to his attention. While it was definitely too late for the night owls to be up, it was too soon for early risers; it was the silent hours between the two manners of life. As if sensing Keith’s fading attention, the alarms silenced halfway through a blare, snapping Keith back into focus. 

“Um… it… might have been a slight, small,” said Lance, bringing up his hand and hovering his index finger an inch above his thumb, “little white lie.” 

A chorus of annoyed groans ensued, but were cut short by Lance’s pleas. 

“Okay, I totally get it. Trust me, as someone who values beauty sleep, I would _not_ wake you all up without a good reason,” said Lance. 

“But your definition of ‘a good reason’ to force me out of bed is highly debatable,” Pidge grumbled, readjusting her slanted glasses. Lance pointed at her emphatically. 

“Valid point! But hear me out here,” said Lance. 

He stepped back to take something from Hunk. Gripping a jug, Lance chugged an ungodly amount of liquid until he needed to pull away to breathe. Coran gasped theatrically to his right but Keith dismissed the sound. There were too many elements to the situation for Keith to focus on at once. As he handed Hunk back the jug, blue eyes fixated on Keith, ignoring the presence of everyone else. The jarring eye contact had him inhaling pointedly. 

“Wh-where did he get the serum?” Allura whispered off to his side. Someone murmured something unintelligible back—not that Keith cared. His attention was elsewhere. 

“ _Keith—_ ” Lance started. The tone of his voice had Keith losing his cool, devolving into pure trepidation. 

“Lance—Lance, no,” he said, already shaking his head. “This isn’t necessary.” 

“I beg to differ,” said Lance. 

“Then beg,” Pidge shot in, unable to help herself and her grin. Iliana joined in, giggling and pressing into Pidge’s side. Lance groaned.

“ _Pidge, now isn’t the time for your sass,_ ” said Lance. 

“On the contrary,” she replied, “I think it’s the perfect time for—“

“Lance, why did you wake us up?” said Shiro, commanding silence from the rest of the crew. Even Iliana silenced her chuckles. Lance was looking at Keith again in a way that reached out and forcibly tugged the air out of his lungs. 

“I have something important to say to all of you, but mostly to Keith,” Lance said. 

“I do _not_ need to be here for this,” Pidge muttered. “I am but a small child—“ 

“Oh, hush,” Allura told her with a small smile. “Of us all, you’ve been the most adamant about seeing this unfold.” 

Lance skimmed over the final interruptions, his gaze unwavering. 

“You know, I couldn’t have been more right when I called you an idiot on day one, Kogane,” he said and paused. Everyone was too shocked to respond, and Keith was left gaping and his eyes were burning because he already knew this. He didn’t _need_ this. In all respects, this is what he wanted to avoid from the very beginning. 

“Because no matter what I did, you never noticed how much I loved you,” Lance went on, and Keith felt his heart stop dead in his chest. “How much I still do—which, uh, it’s a lot. I love you a lot, Keith.” 

_No… no way… he… but…_ The gears turned in his head, finally coming to his own conclusion. _The serum—Lance has to be telling the truth right now. He really… loves me._

_Holy shit._

Lance ceased his confession all over again. He looked incredibly awkward because Keith was staring with huge eyes, looking like he was about to break down in tears. The whole crew watched on in total astonishment, no one saying a word to ruin the moment. They had been thrown for a loop that had them reeling. 

“Uhm, I also thought it’d be a good idea to try to get back at you for that dinner and tell you my feelings with everyone else here but…” Lance laughed nervously. “I guess I just ended up embarrassing myself again, huh?” 

Keith wanted nothing more than to kiss him. 

Then Lance’s knees buckled from underneath him and he collapsed forward. Keith was frozen in place, too shellshocked to move as everyone’s reactions were jumpstarted a couple seconds late. When he went down, Hunk squawked as Allura and Iliana called out their rendition of Lance’s name. Though Pidge and Shiro both sprung to action, Coran got to him first. 

“Allura, prepare a pod!” hollered Coran. “Hunk, Shiro, I need you two to carry him. I should’ve known he would overdose.” 

“I-is he okay?” Keith drifted forward, having overcome his initial shock. He dropped down and slid on his knees. The fabric of his pants glided across the smooth floor as he reached Lance’s crumpled form. 

“I’m afraid not, my boy,” said Coran, the eternal source of comfort he was. “I warned of excessive serum intake when you first took it, but…” As Coran prattled on, Keith was thrown back to the first day of this whole mess. 

_”In large amounts, it does cause a wee immediate death,”_ his mind echoed verbatim. 

“You… are… _shitting me,_ ” Keith said, both horrified and entirely exasperated at the love of his life. Hunk and Shiro were on opposite sides of Lance, lifting him by his gangly limbs to bring him to a pod. “He did all this to prove a point. I’m going to kill him.” 

“Not if the serum kills him first!’ Coran said. 

“Oh, I _assure_ you, death isn’t going to save him from the hellfire I’ll be raining down when he wakes up,” said Keith, close to full-out growling. “Because if he’s going to wake me up in the most extravagant and unnecessary way ever, I’m going to return the favor.”

The moment Lance exited his pod, Keith would be there to kiss the hell out of him for being the absolute dumbass he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and you thought it couldn’t get worse, since they’ve finally confessed and were about to smash face. now, in THEORY that sounds all good and dandy but, _oh_ , my sweet, poor children, you forgot one crucial detail…  
> I. AM. AN. ASSHOLE. ;)  
>  _OKAY BUT BEFORE YOU MURDER ME_ i swear next chapter is IT. no more bs. trust me. i’ve had this all planned out for a while and i had to follow through. okay thanks love you bye bye im on the run until the next chapter  
>  <3
> 
> translations: “Estoy enamorado de ti.” = “I’m in love with you.”


	14. soft b*tch hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, i can’t believe i’m saying this, but you guys are actually gonna be _happy_ with me for once…
> 
> the amount of fluff and genuine communication in this chapter is what y’all deserve. i didn’t mean to leave off the last chapter on such a cliffhanger, but it was already wayyy too long, so i had to split it up. everything’s finally clearing up between these two so i hope you enjoy these idiots in love

Time elapsed in slow motion, the seconds being stretched out to last for minutes. At the least, that was how it felt to Keith. The rest of the team, meanwhile, seemed to be moving in regular time, hurtling past him as Hunk and Shiro carried Lance’s unconscious form to the pods. Keith was still kneeling on the floor when a hand came down to touch his shoulder. He jumped, his gloved hand coming up to grab his assailant’s wrist purely out of reflex. 

“Keith,” said his aggressor, and Keith recoiled. He recognized the accent instantly, pulling away and donning a contrite expression. 

“Sorry, Allura, I didn’t mean—“ he started. 

“Don’t be,” she said and smiled in consideration. Allura extended her hand once more, though this time she kept some distance between them. When Keith didn’t move, she drew away her hand. Her polite smile remained. 

“If you would like, I can keep tabs on Lance’s condition and have Pidge update you,” Allura said. Her offer was genuine, but the last thing Keith wanted to do right now was hole himself up in his room. 

“No,” he said, standing up on uneasy feet. “No, thank you. I’d… rather watch over himself myself.” 

“Understandable,” she replied, nodding. “In that case, would you like to come with me to check in on his condition?” 

Keith kept his head down and gave a short nod of approval. As they walked, his hand moved to trace over the bracelet Lance had given him. It was hidden beneath the ebony spandex of his suit, but he could feel its outline stretching out the fabric. For a moment, it almost seemed as if a certain violaceous glow emitted from underneath the spandex, but this time around he knew he wasn’t imagining it. Plaited metal radiated a deep, purple hue. He wondered if it had been glowing since the moment Lance confessed. Though Keith knew what the color signified now, he absently wondered if Lance did too. 

_But if he did, he would’ve known how I felt sooner._ He sighed inwardly. _Even now, I still have questions._

“—‘m telling you for the last time, this has to be a misreading! Maybe the pod’s sensors are off?” Pidge’s voice broke in. Keith belatedly realized they had entered the medic bay. “I didn’t do any modifications to the pods yet. I haven’t gotten around to it, have you, Hunk?” 

“No…?” Hunk said, not uncertain in his answer but rather uncertain in why Pidge was asking. “Why? What’s the scanner say?” 

A primal sense of panic set in deep in Keith’s bones, driving his gaze upwards to land on Lance. He was still in his everyday clothes; he hadn’t changed his outfit since Keith had last seen him. Though, the bags under Lance’s closed eyes and the bruises that were _still_ adulterating the skin on his neck concerned Keith more. From the looks of it, Lance hadn’t been taking care of himself. 

“The only issue presented onscreen is overexertion from lack of sleep and nutrition—which is far from the overdose diagnosis we predicted,” she said, tapping away on the bright screen beside the pod. Shiro stood a couple feet away, glancing over her shoulder from time to time. 

“Wait, what? How come?” said Hunk. 

“Exactly! It isn’t detecting any abnormalities in his blood, which doesn’t make any sense!” she said, turning to Coran. Her voice had been raised to a volatile shout now. “Didn’t you say the pod’s tech was advanced enough to trace the Altean truth serum’s overdose in his blood stream?” 

“ _Ah,_ ” Coran hummed, brows drawn together as he searched the scanner. “That I did, that I did…” 

“So? What’re we supposed to do?” Pidge said, brazenly intent on answers. “How is the pod supposed to cure him if it _can’t even detect the problem?_ ” 

“Allura, would you mind?” Coran asked as he raised his gaze to meet hers. 

Everyone else in the room, excluding Lance for reasons that were pronounced, turned to stare at Allura in unsaid question. To their surprise, she wore a similar, bewildered expression. Nonetheless she deferred, stepping over as her heels clicked against the polished tile. Coran motioned for her to come closer and she leaned in, the elder Altean whispering something as everyone listened on. To Keith, Coran’s words were undecipherable. When Allura pulled back, her face was torn between horror and relief—an outlandish look on her to say the least. 

“Oh, _Coran…_ ” muttered Allura, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“What’s the matter?” said Shiro. 

“It seems there might have been a bit of a mixup,” said Allura. 

“Lost in translation, you could say,” Coran added. 

“What was?” Keith shot in, too exasperated and too tired to beat around the bush. “Is Lance going to be okay or not?” Coran cleared his throat in anticipation of his own answer, bringing up his hand to stroke his mustache. 

“I may have lead myself to believe that the paladins were under the effects of the serum of truth,” said Coran. 

“Uh… is that meant to imply that we weren’t forced to tell the truth for an entire week?” asked Hunk. “Because I’m pretty sure we were. Guys, back me up on this?” 

“Oh, no, Hunk,” interrupted Allura with a shake of her head. “He means he mixed up the Altean truth serum—which is what you took—with the serum of truth,” she explained. 

“There’s a difference?” Pidge asked in disbelief. 

“There sure is, number five!” said Coran, chipper despite the situation at hand. “The serum of truth is a substitute invented by space pirates! Meanwhile, the truth serum we gave you is the real Altean deal.”

“And since the makeshift, pirated concoction uses the most basic materials needed, it is generally considered unfiltered, and in larger doses, lethal,” finished Allura. “So the pods don’t see the serum in Lance’s bloodstream as dangerous, since this purified version isn’t.” 

Pidge’s eyes bugged out of her head, while Shiro and Hunk were sighing half-heartedly in the background. Keith had other ideas. 

“So… you’re telling me, this whole time I was worried about Lance dying… when there was actually no way for him to overdose in the first place?” said Keith. He spoke slow, his tongue heavy in his mouth, as he attempted to hold back his rage. 

“Correctamundo!” he said. 

“Coran, you better start running,” Keith growled. 

“Already on it, my boy!” Coran shouted, already out the door. 

Shiro was on Keith before he could take off. Taut arms wrapped around him and pulled him into Shiro’s chest, unrelenting until Keith’s attempts to break free ceased. A few more grunts followed by a minute more of struggling, Keith eventually gave in, going slack in Shiro’s arms. 

“He may have been wrong, but that doesn’t justify you attacking him,” Shiro said. Keith could already feel an admonishing lecture coming on. 

“But I-I was so worried!” Keith shrieked, starting up his grappling with Shiro all over again. “I thought… I thought he was… and right after a confession? I—I wouldn’t have been able to… I…” 

“I know, Keith. I know,” Shiro said. 

He twirled Keith around not to pin him better but rather to pull him in for a hug. Keith didn’t struggle against his embrace. He was too surprised to. Gradually, he brought his hands up to return the gesture, the hug tentative but appreciated regardless. 

“But he’s _okay,_ ” Shiro assured him. Keith took in a heaving breath to stabilize himself, still fully mindful of the fact that the rest of the team was watching. 

“I still suggest we keep him in the pod though…” Hunk said. 

“I second that motion,” Pidge said, raising her hand. Keith stepped away from Shiro, and Shiro let him, sensing his change in attitude. He was calmer now, with a better grip on his nerves.

“Why should we? The pods can’t accelerate the serum’s effects. We figured that out when I went into the pod on the first day,” Keith said. 

“True,” Pidge admitted. "But this way we could figure out how long he’ll be under the effects of the serum, and keep him outta trouble until this passes.” 

“Well, that too,” said Hunk. “But I’m mostly concerned about the battering he took when we fought Lotor. He was still refusing to use a pod, even _after_ Keith got better.” 

“He skipped the majority of team meals too,” Pidge added. 

“My mice caught Lance awake long after reasonable hours as well,” said Allura. 

Keith spun on his heels, facing Lance once again. Bruises scattered across tan skin, the only visible gauze wrapped around one of Lance’s hands. Although well aware that the boy wouldn’t see it, Keith glared daggers at him. _And he calls_ me _bad at self-care,_ he thought, internally chastising Lance. Of course Lance wanted to make a grand gesture of his affection. Keith’s gaze softened, too fond of this absolute fool to sustain his glower. He was never going to let Lance live this down. 

“How long will he need to stay in cryo-sleep then?” asked Keith, directing his attention to Hunk and Pidge. The shorter of the two readjusted her glasses, tapping on the interface beside Lance’s pod a few times before responding. 

“I’d reckon a few hours. A day, tops,” said Pidge. 

“You don’t know how long _exactly_ though?” he asked. Pidge hummed, scrutinizing Keith for a moment. 

“I ballparked it,” she said with a noncommittal shrug. “Why? Do you need an exact estimate?” 

“I suppose not. I’ll just stay here until he wakes up then,” said Keith. 

“Are you sure, Keith? Maybe you should rest,” suggested Shiro, unsure of whether or not to push him. “After all, you could’ve only gotten a few hours at the most, considering when Lance woke us up.” 

“I’m staying,” Keith said, his decision fierce and clear-cut. Hunk was next to parent him, worrying over him like a mature, caring adult. Keith could not relate. 

“Do you want us to stay with you?” asked Hunk. He expressed affinity effortlessly, comforting Keith without pause. Keith did his best to smile in return. 

“I’ll pass,” he replied. 

“He’s just saying that because he wants to bang Lance the moment he gets out of his pod,” said Pidge. Unanimous yells emitted from the crew as she finished her statement, ranging from a simple yell of her name to a paternal ‘ _Language! How many times do I have to tell you—_ ’ swirling together to form a cacophony of shouting. Keith was the only one who abstained, his face flushing a bright scarlet. 

“Hey, _hey!_ ” Pidge shouted in response to all the commotion. “I wasn’t the one who detailed all the things I’d do to Lance if he was in my bedroom _in front of everyone at dinner._ ” 

Screaming and squawking ensued anew, considerably rowdier this time around. Keith’s body swelled in its heat, erupting outwardly in giant crimson blotches all over his body. Bearing in mind the figurative magma boiling over inside him, he was shocked—and frankly, disappointed—that he hadn’t yet melted into a puddle on the ground. His hands came up to cover his face in attempts to provide some form of relief. It was a fruitless endeavor. 

_I regret so, so much…_

“Can we _please_ move past this?” Keith groaned, on the edge of downright begging. “Why must we always come back to my mistakes?” 

“Ah ah ah, your _many_ mistakes,” corrected Pidge with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Actually,” Allura interrupted, and Keith had never felt so grateful, “I do think it’s about time I head back to find Coran.” And his gratitude evaporated. 

“Oh, could you… apologize on my behalf? At least, until I can apologize myself,” said Keith, shuffling on his feet. Allura smiled at him. 

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” she said. 

“I think Pidge and I are gonna take our leave too,” said Hunk. An unconvincing sound erupted from Pidge’s throat in direct conflict with Hunk’s statement. 

“But teasing Keith’s so much fun,” she whined. Hunk rolled his eyes. 

“You know what’s more fun?” he asked, rhetoric trickling from his words. “Finishing our prototype for the stun gun we’ve been developing for days.” Pidge sighed, resigned. 

“You’re right,” she said, then sniggered. “Teasing Keith is Lance’s job anyway.” 

The double entendre was as conspicuous as it was shameless, and it had an embarrassing sound flaring up from Keith’s vocal cords. Thankfully, Shiro stepped in. He shooed at Pidge, sharing a warning look with her. 

“Then we’ll leave you two to it,” Shiro said. They left, leaving Keith alone with Shiro and Lance in the pod. 

“Keith, I’m not saying this because I don’t trust you, but…” started Shiro. Keith had no idea where this was going. “Please don’t do anything inappropriate here when Lance wakes u—“ 

Keith slammed his hands against his ears, ineffectively blocking out Shiro’s concerns. He began to shout over Shiro, not caring what he said as long as it was deafening enough to blot him out. When his gaze caught Shiro’s no-longer moving lips, he stopped shouting. Bringing down his hands, Keith spoke up before Shiro could start his lecture all over again. 

“I am not going to do anything with Lance!” said Keith. Shiro chuckled, seeming satisfied with the response he had gotten. 

“In that case, feel free to stay,” Shiro said. “But I’d suggest swapping your paladin armor out for something more comfortable.” 

Keith was prepared to dismiss the courtesy, but on second thought, he couldn’t fault Shiro for the suggestion. It was a good one. His hand went to his wrist, twisting the fabric where he knew his bracelet was. If he changed, he would be able to see the bracelet without the spandex and armor in his way. He paused to look up at Lance, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“That isn’t a bad idea,” Keith concurred. “Would you mind staying here until I get back? You know, just… just in case,” he finished abashedly. 

“Of course,” said Shiro. Though Shiro didn’t smile, Keith could feel the compassion in his tone. So, with a final glance to Lance, Keith left the pod bay.

———

Lance had grown well accustomed to dealing with exhaustion since he became a paladin. As someone who placed incredible value on beauty sleep, it took him discernibly longer to adjust than the others. At times it was frustrating. Moments that required excess energy early in the morning—like the impromptu training sessions that Allura adored so much—left him testy. Hunk had proved himself to be a blessing though, having learned about Lance’s cranky morning tendencies back at the Garrison. To preemptively combat his attitude, Hunk had scoured planets they visited for anything resembling coffee grounds.

It had taken a few months, but Hunk eventually found a stable substitute on Hielra Two-O. His first stab at it resulted in a coffee-esque liquid, but was discolored and left a strange aftertaste. His second try was much better, and Hunk only improved with time. Now Lance had grown attached to his morning cup of coffee, all thanks to Hunk. 

Lately though, there hadn’t been time for recreational pastimes like cooking. Morale was low with everyone constantly moving in and out of pods, and he didn’t want to add to the pile of responsibilities that Hunk had to deal with. In the end, Lance had to learn to deal with his fatigue on his own. Fighting the Galra took a lot out of him. And after Keith had been captured, his sleep schedule deteriorated even further. 

When Lance finally got around to confessing, he felt an incredulous weight lift off his back and stop burdening his chest. A relieving fullness occupied the cavity in his chest, and he felt himself gravitating down and onto the floor. He hadn’t even released he fainted until he was waking up. His eyes fluttered open as he fell forward. Arms with comforting warmth enclosed around him and he let himself be tugged out of the pod. 

“Took you long enough.” Lance felt the hum of the familiar voice reverberate through the body he was pressed against before he heard it. He smiled before he looked up at Keith with an upturn of his chin. 

“Hey there,” Lance said, trying his best to sound suave despite the gruffness of his voice. “It seems that I’ve—“

“If you say ‘fallen for you,’ I swear to all things holy that I’m shoving you back into that pod,” deadpanned Keith, entirely unamused. Perhaps it was the daze of recovering in a pod, or the fervent warmth that grounded him, but Lance couldn’t help but say the first thing that came to mind. The corners of his mouth turned up to form a bigger, brighter smile as he opened it to speak. 

“That’s the man I fell for,” Lance said, watching in glee as Keith’s eyes widened. “Charming as always.” 

“ _Lance,_ ” said Keith. He didn’t realize how much he missed flustering and embarrassing Keith until he matched the color of his lion. It was natural. It was nice. 

Lance yawned, humming an affirmative in reply. Though his body felt more relaxed than it had in days, he still felt mentally exhausted. He could go for a nap— _another_ one. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, waiting for Keith to get ahold of himself. But Keith never countered Lance’s flirty advances. Rather, Keith’s alternative had Lance’s eyes jolting open and jaw going slack. 

“I love you, too,” Keith said, a sweet, shy smile on his lips. 

“Wh—?” Lance choked on his surprise. He stared at Keith as the boy edged closer. 

“You never let me say it back before you passed out, you jerk,” he finished, gently punching Lance in the shoulder. 

“O- _oh._ Cool, that—that is,” Lance said, stumbling over his words. 

Gloved hands came up on either side of Lance’s face and he froze. Keith’s fingers were too warm to remain stuck in place though, and Lance found himself melting into his touch. He met Keith’s twinkling eyes, the amount of concentration focused on him alone making his lungs constrict painfully. Thumbs brushed across olive-brown cheeks with such affection that Lance’s heart skipped a beat not once but twice. 

“Keith…” Lance said under his breath. He hadn’t meant to let the boy’s name slip, especially not in such an embarrassingly soft tone. 

“Can I kiss you?” asked Keith. Lance wanted to take this opportunity to say something charismatic and alluring, but a familiar compulsion forced out the truth on his tongue. 

“Please do,” whispered Lance. 

Plain astonishment replaced Keith’s soft gaze, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then, achingly slowly, Keith leaned in. Lance mimicked the movement, letting his eyes flitter closed, and tilting his head sideways based on some subconscious instinct. But nothing happened. Lance opened one eye slightly, peeking at Keith. The paladin in question was quivering almost imperceptibly, his hot breath felt easily against Lance’s lips, which were hovering inches away from Keith’s. Though Keith’s eyes were closed, Lance could read the indecision painting his features. 

Lance huffed in amusement, finding Keith’s hesitation cuter than he probably had any right to. He brought his own hands up to Keith’s chest, sliding them up and snaking them around Keith’s neck, coming to a stop once his fingers were buried in dark tendrils of hair. _Soft,_ he thought appreciatively. Keith shivered against him, though not from discomfort. He drifted into Lance’s touch, his eyes fluttering but not opening. 

Lance faltered a bit longer, just long enough to admire the gorgeous red dusting high on his cheeks and drink in the beauty that was Keith Kogane. For a ceaseless moment, Lance was happy with this alone. Then he leaned in and closed the gap between them. Lips glided across lips with a delicate caution, testing the waters as they learned each other. Absently, Lance took note of how much softer Keith’s lips were in comparison to his hair. Having reminded himself of the ridiculous mullet, Lance continued to tangle his fingers in the dark strands, eventually grabbing a fraction of his hair and tugging. The tender kiss didn’t last for long after that. 

Keith gasped at the contact, his mouth falling open in surprise. Lance took the chance and swiped his tongue across Keith’s lower lip, earning a gratifying shiver from the other boy. He pushed forward further to deepen the kiss, a move to which Keith eagerly met him head-on. Keith’s lower half pressed against Lance as Lance twirled around and pushed Keith up against a wall. Mouths moved more desperately as Lance dropped his hands to Keith’s waist. He curled his fingers into the belt loops of Keith’s pants, pulling Keith flush against him. Despite himself, Lance smiled against Keith’s lips as laughter rippled out from his lungs. Keith broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to inspect the giggling paladin holding onto him. 

“What?” Keith said in a grunt. Though Lance suspected he could detect a sense of self-consciousness from Keith, it was overshadowed by the overall annoyance of having their kiss broken. 

“I just can’t believe they let my gay ass into heaven,” Lance said, breathless and smiling. 

“You’re not dead, you idiot,” said Keith, unable to hold back a stream of velvety laughter. Despite the insult, his endearing tone made it come out softer than intended. 

“That makes sense,” Lance said, nodding sagely. “Considering I’d never be let into heaven, and considering no one would let an angel like you into hell.” Granted Keith rolled his eyes, he still smiled at the childish flirt. 

“You’re unfairly cute,” said Keith. He spoke in a hushed tone, as if he wanted to block out the rest of the world from hearing their conversation. Lance went pink. 

“I’m irresistibly handsome, not _cute,_ ” grumbled Lance. Keith chuckled, gingerly swiping his thumbs across Lance’s cheekbones again. 

“I take back what I said,” Keith said. 

“ _Thank_ you,” said Lance. 

“Because you’re not just cute, you’re beautiful,” Keith finished. He gaped at Keith. 

“Keith, please! I’m a weak man, show mercy,” whined Lance. “Spare my poor, gay heart.” 

Lance averted his gaze, his eyes unintentionally landing on a bizarre glow coming from Keith’s wrist. Right above his fingerless gloves was the plaited metal bracelet Lance had given him. The staggering purple glow caught Lance’s attention and, without meaning to, reached around to touch it. 

“I still don’t get why it’s purple…” Lance murmured. 

“Wait, you wore this—and gave me one—without knowing what it does?” asked Keith, in semi-disbelief. Lance recoiled, his uncharacteristic coyness getting the better of him.

“I do—I-I did, but…” Lance said, avoiding Keith’s questioning look. 

“But…?” Keith supplied. 

“I thought it’d be orange by now…” he admitted. 

“Why orange?” 

Lance stalled, pulling away further to wring his hands together. He didn’t want to keep secrets anymore, but he also didn’t want him to see Lance differently. In the end, he knew he didn’t have a choice. The truth was pulled out of him. 

“Callidus—the, uh, alien who gave the bracelets to me—told me what each color signified,” said Lance, starting his explanation only to pause. In that moment, it hit him. Callidus’ voice rung clearer than it ever had in his head. 

_”So in the end, we have red for eros, orange for philia, and purple for pragma.”_

“Oh, god… purple. _Purple_ was pragma,” Lance said aloud, though it was an indoor thought. “Not orange.” 

“What? What’re you talking about?” Keith asked. “What’s pragma?” 

“It is time-tested, loyal love,” Lance echoed Callidus. He flushed the same way he did when Callidus first told him the word’s meaning. 

“Wait, so you _knew_ I fell for you since Amora?” Keith asked, mostly just confused. 

“No!” he answered honestly. “I… I confused the colors is all…” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Keith. 

“It’s not my fault he used a lot of big words I didn’t know! I bet you don’t know what ludus or agape are either,” said Lance in his own defense. “I’m a paladin of Voltron, not a word wizard!” 

“No, it’s not that,” said Keith, rubbing his temples. “You’re not the first one to mix up their words today.”

“Who was then?” he asked, curious. 

“Coran,” said Keith, then paused awkwardly. “I may have threatened him because he led us all to believe you were dying.” Lance choked on nothing before he started snickering. 

“I’m sorry, _what?_ I was just tired after staying up for so long,” he said between short bursts of laughter. 

“Why are you laughing!” Keith pouted as he spoke, crossing his arms securely over his chest. “It wasn’t funny at the time, do you know how worried I was?” 

“Aww,” Lance purred. “Keithy boy was worried about me.” 

“Seriously, Lance… I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” Keith said, going from angry to solemn in a fraction of a second. “I was so terrified. I thought it was going to be the Kerberos mission all over again and I was going to lose you just like I lost Shiro. I-I don’t think—I _couldn’t_ do that a second time—” 

Keith hiccuped, cutting himself off as his breathing grew more ragged. The sounds he made teetered on the edge of veritable hyperventilating and had Lance reaching out. His motions were slow, not wanting to be another source of anxiety. When Keith didn’t flinch away, Lance put his hands on him. He wanted to do nothing more than pull Keith in for a hug, but he didn’t want him to feel claustrophobic either. Thus he met himself halfway, keeping his hands on the other boy’s shoulders as he leaned his forehead to Keith’s. 

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he whispered. His brilliant blue eyes looked onward with a determined calm, peering at the teary, wide-eyed boy in front of him. “You were stuck with me the moment I saw you destroy that flight simulator.” 

Keith huffed, a feeble, wrecked sound. He pulled away from Lance, leaning up against the wall as he threw him a stony stare. 

“So you can remember me back at the Garrison but you can’t remember our bonding moment?” Keith asked. Lance resisted the gut-deep urge to groan. Sadly, his mouth had other—much worse—plans. 

“I remember the bonding moment,” he said, the truth tumbling from him before he slapped his hand over his mouth. He didn’t get a chance to answer in Spanish this time around. Keith punched the air, whooping as he grinned at Lance and pointed. 

“I _knew it!_ ” shouted Keith. 

“Wow, would you look at the time?” said Lance. His voice was raised high as he looked down at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. “It’s late and I’ve had _such_ a long and incredibly harrowing day—“

“You just got out of a pod,” interrupted Keith, slipping into his signature deadpan look. 

“—so, if you wouldn’t mind—“

“I do,” said Keith. 

“—I’m heading to bed,” Lance finished. He patiently waited for Keith to snark back, turning on his heel and leaving the medic bay, but the boy simply followed him out. 

“Don’t you want to get something to eat first?” Keith asked. “Pidge said you haven’t been eating as much as you normally do.” 

_The traitor,_ Lance thought. Though she hadn’t been wrong, he didn’t want to worry the team. Especially not Keith—not after everything he had gone through. He shook his head. It put him at ease to see Keith act so unabashedly caring towards him, though. 

“Honestly? I’m more tired than anything,” he admitted, waving his hand around nonsensically. “I think I’ll just grab a bite in the morning.” 

“Are you sure?” Keith pressed him. “I wouldn’t mind going and getting you something, if you’re too tired to.” 

Lance gave the red paladin a sideways glance, smiling as he did so. In one swift motion, he took Keith’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers. He let their arms swing between them, though he was doing most of the work. Either Keith wasn’t putting in effort because he was doing the bare minimum in tolerating him, or he had been taken by surprise. 

“I promise, I’m okay,” said Lance. 

“Okay,” Keith yielded and turned his gaze forward. “If you’re sure…” 

They had arrived at their rooms then, but Lance wasn’t ready to part ways. When Keith attempted to extricate his hand, Lance pulled their entwined hands over his head and twirled Keith into his chest. In the process, his free hand went to Keith’s waist—an ancillary precaution. 

“If this is the start of another dramatic gesture before you go pass out for a few hours, I don’t want it,” said Keith. In direct contrast to his words, Keith didn’t shy away. Lance felt himself falter. He squared his shoulders in a futile attempt to regain his fleeting composure. 

“I was thinking, if you wanted to…” Lance said before starting over. “Would you like to stay the night with me, samurai?” Keith stifled a laugh. 

“Samurai?” he repeated, smirking. “Haven’t heard that one in a while. 

“Shut up,” Lance said with an agitated snort. “I panicked, okay?” 

“You panicked because you asked me to sleep with you?” Keith asked, then came to an abrupt halt. Realizing his unfortunate choice of words a little too late, his cheeks colored with a delightful rouge. He looked so alarmed that Lance wanted to laugh. 

“Wait,” Keith backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Oh, so what you said to me at dinner all those nights ago was just talk, then?” he asked. Recalling that night to his advantage, Lance took great pleasure out of flipping the situation around on Keith. The bright red of his pale cheeks went dark and had Keith dropping his head, his dark hair curtaining his face. 

“If I agree to stay the night, will you promise to never bring up that dinner ever again?” said Keith, voice low. Lance shimmied up by Keith’s side. He drank in the rare sight of an embarrassed Keith with a taunting smile. 

“Are you trying to bribe me with cuddles?” he asked. 

Keith looked up at him, his hair parting enough for their eyes to meet. The high flush complemented Keith’s skin tone wonderfully, the dim lights making his pale skin radiant with the backdrop of the castle’s dark hallways. His eyes were big and hopeful and inches away from Lance’s. It was startling as it was captivating. The beauty of it all had Lance holding his breath. 

_How can a boy this perfect exist?_

“Is it working?” Keith whispered. 

“ _Yes,_ ” said Lance. 

Keith broke out into the brightest smile he had ever seen on the grumpy paladin, stepping back. Right when he thought the two would head to his room, Keith began walking to his own. Lance caught him by the forearm, raising a brow in silent question. 

“So clingy,” Keith teased. 

“Yep,” he said openly, tugging on Keith’s arm for emphasis. “Very.” 

“I’m just going to change,” Keith explained, seemingly unbothered by how touchy-feely Lance was acting. “I’ll meet you in your room, yeah?” 

Lance nodded, ending their exchange as they retired to their respective rooms. Once alone, Lance bounced on the balls of his feet, too excited to stand still. He rushed to slip into his pajamas, brush his teeth, and quickly went to work on his skincare routine. He used as assortment of creams of lotions to substitute a face mask for tonight. Lance had reentered his bedroom when there was a knock at the door. 

To his absolute horror, Keith walked in, wearing ankle-long tights and one of his customary black t-shirts. To make matters worser than worse, Keith still had his fanny pack on and his Marmoran blade equipped. With a cursory glance, the only noticeable difference was the absence of Keith’s cropped jacket. He hadn’t even swapped out his white and red boots for his lion slippers. 

_The audacity of this one…_

“What… on _Earth_ are you wearing?” Lance asked, gawking at him. 

“We’re not on Earth anymore, so you can’t use that one,” said Keith. 

“Don’t deflect the real question here!” Lance said, pointing an accusatory finger into Keith’s chest. “This is ridiculous!” Keith looked down at himself, spreading out his arms as he frowned. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asked. “This is how I always sleep.” 

Lance let out an affronted gasp at that, taking personal offense. 

“You sleep with your _knife?_ What if you stab yourself?” he said. 

“Unlike you, I wouldn’t stab myself. I’m good with my hands,” Keith said. For the second time that night, Keith flushed at his unintentional innuendo. Lance decided to kill two birds with one stone. 

“Is that right?” Lance drawled, his hands coming to rest on the small of Keith’s back. 

He let his hands trail downward, a smug grin overtaking his features as he leaned in. Keith opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, shutting it as Lance closed the distance between them. Moments before their lips touched, Lance slipped his hand over the buckle of Keith’s fanny pack, tugging it off. At the same time, he swiped Keith’s blade with his other hand. Lance moved back, but not before he kissed the tip of Keith’s nose. 

“There,” said Lance, dropping Keith’s stuff on his nightstand. “Next is your boots…” 

“Are you trying to undress me?” Keith asked. Before Lance could face him, he was being spun around, arms winding around his neck and pressing into the hair at the nape of his neck. Keith’s mouth embraced Lance’s without notice, and Lance gave a tiny sound of surprise from the base of his throat. This kiss was hungrier than the last—not that Lance was complaining. 

“Because I don’t appreciate being teased, McClain,” Keith said against parted lips. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, pretty boy,” muttered Lance. 

As Keith pushed forward, Lance moved back, surrendering himself to Keith’s impulses until the back of his thighs hit the bed. On a whim, Lance flipped their positions before he fell onto the bed. As Keith was pushed into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, Lance dropped to his knees, deriving a sudden, sharp inhalation from Keith. Realizing how it must have appeared to Keith, he grinned up at him, dragging his hands down the outer sides of Keith’s legs until they reached his ankles. He relished the way Keith trembled beneath his touch. 

“Now, boots,” Lance hummed innocently. Keith choked out a small and hushed sound that was not lost upon Lance. 

“ _Are_ —seriously?” Keith said, exhaling roughly. The only response he gave Keith was a nonverbal one, choosing instead to wink at the exasperated paladin. 

He went to sliding off Keith’s boots, arranging them neatly to the side of his bed. He wasn’t focused on their proper positioning though. An amused glint surfaced in his eyes as he caught sight of Keith’s socks. His hands slinked around Keith’s ankles, pulling his legs closer for a better look. They were plush and fluffy and neon red, but the design is what attracted Lance’s attention. Scattered across the fabric were mechanical lion heads that had the corners of Lance’s mouth pulling upwards. 

“My feet get cold easily, okay?” Keith shot out defensively. Lance lifted his hands up in surrender, throwing Keith an innocent smile. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he said. 

“But you were _going_ to,” Keith sneered. His still-gloved hands clenched at the comforter on Lance’s bed.  
“I was just going to say I admire the pattern you chose,” Lance said, his smile growing to reveal white teeth. Keith turned his head to the side. 

“Pidge got them for me,” Keith said under his breath. 

Lance surged up, two fingers coming to rest on Keith’s jaw as he urged Keith to meet his gaze. He obliged, and Lance recaptured Keith’s lips in a heated kiss that knocked Keith off balance. As Keith’s back made contact with the mattress, Lance straddled him. 

“Gloves,” said Lance. 

“Why? Do you have a problem with my gloves?” asked Keith, squirming beneath him. The both of them knew Keith could flip them over if he so wished, but apparently, he didn’t. 

“You’re not wearing those crimes against fashion in my bed, mullet,” Lance stated matter-of-factly. 

“What would you have me wear, then?” said Keith, stilling under Lance to throw him a suggestive look. To finish it off, he wiggled his eyebrows. 

_That should_ not _be as hot as it is._

“That’s my move, you little thief!” he said, doing his best to sound rightfully appalled. “You can’t do that!” 

Keith’s hips jutted up suddenly, pressing Lance up and over as Keith switched their positions. The overly complacent look Keith wore as he towered over him had Lance’s heart beating in his throat. Keith laid all his weight into him, enjoying his smooth victory. Lance swore he momentarily forgot how to breathe. These unexpected surges of confidence from Keith were hot as they were breathtaking. 

“And yet, it seems, I just did,” Keith said, voice gruffer than it had been. 

“C’mon, Keith,” he said. Lance held out a hand in the space between them, flexing his fingers to curl towards his palm and back. The grabby gesture did nothing for him. Keith snatched both of Lance’s hands from where he sat atop Lance, pinning them above his head. Their faces hovered inches apart. 

“Give me one reason why I should,” he said playfully, breathing a gust of hot air onto Lance’s lips. 

“Simple,” Lance shot back, craning his neck so he could kiss Keith. 

The amount of pressure was almost bruising, but Lance loved it, neither backing down as the kiss grew more and more heated. Still, he wanted to finish his thought. As a last resort, Lance dragged his teeth against Keith’s bottom lip before biting. A subdued moan spewed forth from the boy above him. Keith’s head tilted back enough for Lance to pull away, and Keith’s dark eyes were on him instantly. 

“ _Because I want them off,_ ” Lance growled, unflinching under Keith’s intense gaze. He felt the boy above him shiver, sending satisfied waves down Lance’s spine. 

“Sure thing, babe,” Keith said, unpinning Lance’s wrists to bring his own in front of Lance. But Lance was stuck staring at Keith, his mind replaying the pet name that had oh-so-casually fell from swollen lips. Keith took notice. 

“Oh my god,” Keith murmured, grinning. “And you were giving _me_ shit when I got all flustered for being called princess.” 

Lance didn’t have a verbal retort at the ready, so in retaliation, he decided to follow through on getting what he desired in the first place. His hands came up to steady Keith’s wrists. To throw Keith off, Lance bit into the fabric and tugged off one of his gloves with his teeth. Lance was happy to say it wiped that smug grin right off Keith’s face. Lance repeated the gesture with the other glove, enjoying the stunned silence as Keith marveled at him. The fact that the blush Keith sported had become a seemingly permanent feature, spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears, was thrilling. 

“You were saying, _princess?_ ” Lance teased. 

Pale hands, now stripped bare, came to rest on Lance’s cheeks. A thumb then dropped to his lips, dragging down from his upper lip until it came to rest on Lance’s lower one, nudging it open. The moment he obliged, Keith was on him, placing searing, open-mouthed kisses anywhere and everywhere he could reach. It was messy, adorable, and Lance adored every second of it. 

“I never did ask you what you did with your bracelet,” said Keith. His eager lips were pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw and juncture between his collarbone and throat now. 

Lance spotted the way Keith had structured the sentence—not as a question that Lance would be forced to answer, but rather, as a declaration. He was giving Lance the choice of answering. The sweet sentiment had Lance’s insides turning to goo. Then again, it could have also been because of the hickey Keith was giving him just below his collarbone. 

“I, uh, might have a _bit_ —“ said Lance, gasping as Keith bit a mark into his skin, “—of explaining to do.” 

“Okay,” Keith murmured against his neck, not pressuring him to continue. His nose nuzzled against exposed skin as Keith continued on with his ministrations. 

“Remember me telling you how I mixed up the colors?” Lance asked. His head fell back against the sheets to give Keith better access. Keith hummed an affirmative into the crook of his neck. 

“When Shiro pulled you aside back on Amora for duck taping your mouth shut, which, though I found incredibly cute, was also incredibly— _ah_!” Keith bit down, hard, wordlessly daring Lance to continue his sentence. “ _Innovative_! I was going to say innovative, you jerk!” 

Keith made a sound as if he didn’t quite believe him, but laughed as he continued his trail of kisses. He even left an apologetic kiss over the spot he had bitten so hard down on. Lance couldn’t complain too much. Absently, he brought his hands up to card through Keith’s hair, his nerves pressing him to find a physical distraction for his hands. This next part, he knew, would be the worst. He braced himself. 

“I misread orange as pragma instead of philia—that is, family love,” he clarified, picking up the pace. “When, in reality, orange was philia and pragma was purple. It was an honest mistake! I mean, they both start with the letter ‘p’ so I guess I mixed them up pretty easily.” 

Keith had gone still below Lance. He slowly rose to meet Lance’s eyes, his own blown wide as he came to his own epiphany. Keith blinked once, then twice, and then spoke. 

“That’s why you thought I was in love with Shiro,” summarized Keith. He sounded more of an echo of himself than the real deal. “But that doesn’t explain what happened to your bracelet.” 

“Well, after that, I… chucked it,” Lance said quietly. Keith squeaked above him. 

“Lance!” 

“I know where I threw it though,” he continued. “It was by that overgrown bridge. You know, where we fought and I accidentally confessed to you.” 

“You… no?” said Keith, watching him in confusion. Lance could practically see the memories replay in Keith’s head as he analyzed them, this time under a new lens. After a few moments, he let out a low ‘oh’ sound. 

“When you said you liked someone, you meant me,” Keith said, eyes coming back in focus. “Not Shiro.” 

“You thought _I_ was the one who liked Shiro?” Lance said in disbelief. 

The two stared at one another, their mess of miscommunications unfurling as they began to understand each other. Then, as delayed comprehension set in the both of them, the duo burst out laughing. Keith’s head fell against Lance’s shaking chest as they continued laughing, his eyes drawn tightly closed as water prickled at the corners of their eyes. 

“I can’t believe it,” Keith was the first to say. “We were such idiots.” 

“We still ended up together so that’s a win in my book,” said Lance. Wanting a more comfortable position, Lance pulled Keith with him as he readjusted their bodies. When their heads were against the pillows, Keith tangled their legs together and threw a hand over Lance’s waist, shifting half of his weight onto Lance. They were beginning to wind down. 

“The ends don’t justify the means, Lance,” Keith retorted. “Imagine how much sooner we could have had this if we weren’t so dense.” 

“Just this once, I think the ends do justify the means. Especially since that means I get to be with you and do things like this,” Lance said, kissing Keith’s forehead. He paused as he pulled away, his mind fully processing what Keith had said. 

“What did you mean by ‘we could have had _this_ sooner’?” Lance asked. 

“What do you mean what do I mean?” 

“What exactly _is_ this?” Lance said. 

“I… I don’t know. I don’t really have much experience with this kind of thing,” Keith admitted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Lance. “I mean, I really do like you, Lance, so… what do _you_ want this to be?” 

“Wait, holdup holdup holdup, did you just say you _like_ me?” asked Lance, faking the most melodramatic, shocked expression he could muster. Keith scoffed, rolling his eyes as the seriousness in them was replaced with vague amusement. 

“I know right,” Keith said, heavy sarcasm coming off him in waves. “What a shock this must be for you.” 

“Do not try and downplay this mind-blowing development, Keith!” Lance said as Keith began to snicker. 

“Don’t need to,” he said. “You hype it up enough for the two of us combined.” 

When the two kissed, they rotated between small pecks to silly, misplaced kisses to make the other laugh. Neither really aimed to take it further. There was no need to rush; they had all the time in the universe now. Another factor, Lance supposed, was the exhaustion setting in. Despite having come out of pod, Lance didn’t feel like he had really slept. It felt more like he had been suspended in time and space, waiting to rest once he left his pod. He was ready to yield to the void of sleep, cuddled up beside Keith. 

At the thought of the boy in his arms, he fully redirected his attention Keith. He had reverted to pressing himself up against Lance’s side, playing with the thin cloth of Lance’s shirt. Lance took in the sight, not wanting to spend another night without Keith by his side. He didn’t want to lose this. Despite how new this all was, Lance was more than willing to dive in headfirst. Keith had asked him what he wanted, after all. 

“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Lance said, an abrupt break in the room’s pleasant silence. 

Keith tensed, his expression unseeable from where he was burrowed into Lance’s neck. Strained muscles and uneasy silence formed a combo that lead nowhere good. Lance did his best to backtrack. He had pushed Keith passed his limit back when they had first been under the effects of the serum, and the last thing he wanted to do was remind Keith of all those social blunders. He was not going to push Keith into something he did not want. 

“Auh, I didn’t mean to be so forward,” Lance said, stammering a bit before getting ahold of himself. “I know I can be a lot. Or, you know, not enough. So if you don’t want… don’t want _this_ we can always take it slow, or—“ 

“Not enough?” Keith echoed blankly. It was unnerving that Lance still couldn’t see his face. 

“Y-yeah, like, if it’s just a looks-based thing for you,” he tried. It was the wrong choice of words. Keith shot up from where he laid, staring daggers into Lance from above. 

“You think I like you because of your _looks_?” Keith said, his voice elevated a notch or two. Lance felt his breath hold as he paused. He didn’t mean to offend Keith. Once again, he was backtracking. 

“No, I! I know you aren’t shallow, it’s just…” Lance hesitated, not sure how much of his insecurities to reveal. He sighed. “I know I’m not the best romantic partner in the universe, let alone on this ship, but you can be really hard to read, so I don’t know if you were looking for more of a one-night stand kind of deal or—“ 

“ _Stop talking,_ ” Keith snarled. Lance clamped his jaw shut, bobbing his head. Keith pushed himself up into a sitting position, squishing Lance’s cheeks between his hands as he pulled him in close. 

“I may not be able to able to communicate well with others like you can, but I did not fall for you because you’re good-looking. If you thought for even a second that I don’t love your dumb jokes, your silly nicknames, your natural bravery when others are in danger, or your kind heart, then I’ve failed you as your boyfriend,” Keith said, staring Lance down like his life depended on it. “I swear to you, from this day forward, I’ll do better. I’ll make sure you know I love you, _all_ of you. All of you with your little flaws and quirks, okay?” 

Lance heard it all, the speech now permanently embedded in Lance’s mind for all eternity. Even so, the only words that formed on his tongue was a reiteration of the title Keith had given himself. 

“As… as my boyfriend?” Lance asked, a goofy smile cracking apart the thin line that had been his mouth. 

“As your boyfriend,” said Keith, still completely serious. 

After a moment of scanning his face, Keith nodded to himself, as if signifying his satisfaction with what he found. Lance assumed it was good, since Keith leaned in and pressed a close-mouthed kiss to his lips. It had been different from all the others up to this point. It wasn’t forceful or filled to the brim with fervent passion. It was meaningful, slow, and conveyed what Keith had so desperately tried to say with words. They didn’t say much after that. Contentment and exhaustion pulled them together as they fell asleep, lost in each other’s arms.

———

Keith awoke to Lance’s profile. It was a bit jolting at first, realizing he really had spent the night with Lance after all. He was tempted to reach out and touch Lance, just to prove he was actually there and he wasn’t delusional. Since only in his wildest dreams could he have conjured up an outcome as unlikely as this.

Lance was already up and seemed to have been up for a while. There was no dazed look in his eyes to hint at him just recently waking up, either. His arms were folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. When he realized Keith was up, though, he shifted onto his side to face Keith, shooting him a toothy smile. 

“Good mornin’, gorgeous,” said Lance. Though he wanted to argue that _No, Lance, I just woke up. My hair’s probably a mess and I’m sure I have a bad case of morning breath,_ but he refrained. There was something more important on his mind. 

“Morning,” Keith yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What were you thinking about?” 

In the haze between unconsciousness and consciousness, the truth serum completely slipped Keith’s mind. Realizing his mistake, he opened his mouth to apologize. Lance beat him to it. 

“I was wondering how Iliana could have known we were under the effects of the truth serum,” he replied, seeming unbothered. 

“Shit, sorry. I totally forgot about the,” he said, finishing his sentence with a meaningful gesture to Lance’s vocal cords. Lance got the message, giving a small chuckle. 

“It’s okay,” Lance said. “I don’t mind.” 

“Were you up for a while thinking about this?” Keith said, unable to stop the worry from creeping into his voice. Lance shrugged noncommittally, telling Keith all he needed to know. 

“Was it something I said that tipped her off?” Lance wondered aloud. Keith knew the answer, but didn’t want to give it. 

“Why would that matter?” said Keith. “Iliana is on our side now.” Lance’s brows pinched together as he squinted at Keith. 

“You know, don’t you?” he asked, though it wasn’t really as question as it was a passive aggressive demand for answers. 

“Lance…” 

“Please, Keith,” Lance said, “please.” 

Keith reasoned with himself. At first thought, not telling Lance seemed like the better of the two options. Though, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Lance would just keep thinking about it, and keeping pestering Keith until he told him. Lance deserved to know, and he would probably find out sooner or later. 

“While I was captured, I figured out Iliana had contacted Lotor. Since she has access to the monarchy’s tech, she probably used the direct line they had to the Galra,” said Keith. “She was the one who contacted him and let it slip that we were under the ‘curse’ of speaking the truth.” 

He paused to see if Lance caught the detail, but he seemed expectant, still waiting for an answer. It hadn’t clicked yet. Lance watched him with rapt attention. 

“Remember how you convinced Iliana not to marry me by saying we were already an item? Which, like, _bold_ , but not the point here,” Keith muttered, going on. “And she accused us of lying, to which you said something along the lines of ‘it’s our curse, princess.’”

“Oh,” said Lance. Keith was already pushing himself to sit upright. “Oh, no.” 

“No, Lance, do not blame yourself, okay? This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” said Keith. 

Lance shook his head, moving off the bed to pace around the room. His hands tugged aimlessly at the roots of his head, and then down to the stray threads on his shirt, then back—a vicious cycle. It hurt Keith to watch. 

“But if I didn’t run my stupid, _fat_ mouth, you wouldn’t have become a target for Lotor,” rambled Lance. His speech patterns grew more erratic the longer he spoke, and Keith knew he had to stop Lance and slow him down. 

“I would’ve been a target anyway. Lotor singled me out because of my half-Galra heritage. He told me so himself,” Keith said, hitting his first point on the head. “He also wanted me for my information on the Blade, not only Voltron. The serum was just an added bonus, so it would’ve happened anyway.” 

“But Iliana—“

“Nope, you don’t get to blame her either. Iliana felt betrayed by her people for something she couldn’t control—something she was born with, so of course she lashed out,” Keith said, prepared for this line of dispute as well. “She felt alone. I was the same way, back at the Garrison. I probably would’ve ended up in a similar, maybe even worse situation if it weren’t for Shiro. She just needed someone to push her in the right direction. She saved us back on the cruiser, didn’t she?” 

Lance had stopped dead in his tracks. He hid his shock badly at the tail-end of Keith’s speech. Keith either hadn’t been lucid or conscious during that part of their escape, so he had to hear the rest of it by ear. Lance had told him parts of what happened, but not everything. Obviously, Lance didn’t think he was privy to this piece of information. 

“Hunk told me while I was waiting for you to exit the pod,” Keith explained. “He came by a few times to check up on me and he helped my pass the time by talking.” Lance seemed to finally deflate, his frustration and anger seeping out as he soaked in everything Keith had told him. 

“How can you forgive her so easily?” Lance said, looking to him with sad eyes. 

“Because I understand her,” he said, surprised by how easy the retort came to him. “And because we all make mistakes. She shouldn’t be made out to be a villain because she messed up when trying to find her place in the universe.” 

Lance seemed like he wanted to continue their conversation, but was cut off by the castle’s PA system. Allura’s voice rang clearly from the loudspeakers. 

“All paladins, report on the main deck ASAP,” she said, her voice revealing nothing. “I’m arranging a team meeting before I direct the ship’s course to I’vira.” 

The two paladins met eyes, not needing to exchange words to know who this meeting was going to be about. After all, they had the disregarded princess of I’vira with them, and Allura was still keen on forming an alliance. The crew had a united responsibility in deciding Iliana’s fate. And for the life of him, Keith was going to make sure she had a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe it? a whole chapter _without_ angst? are you sure this is even happening? for all you know, you could be hallucinating this entire update. who knows? or, better yet, who cares?
> 
> hey, but i wanted to genuinely thank you guys for all the overwhelming support for this series? i can’t believe this all started out as a joke and now we’re here, at the penultimate chapter. just, wow. thank you. 
> 
> as always, feel free to drop a comment below.  
> i love talking with you guys  
> <3


	15. idiots in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought the title was fitting :P 
> 
> can you believe this is it? for the last time on this fic, i hope you enjoy.   
> thank you for staying with me for this long ^-^

Lance and Keith were the last to make it to the control deck. Considering they had to get changed, and Lance spent some extra time complaining about the hickeys ruining his impeccable skincare routine, neither were surprised. There was no time to enter a pod to heal either, so Lance resigned himself to popping up the collar of his jacket in hopes of shielding the blemishes. On entrance, thankfully, the rest of the team was too preoccupied to notice. 

Allura was speaking to the rest of the crew, her hands clasped together as she stood beside Iliana. Despite the conflicting turmoil setting heavy in Lance’s gut, he was going to do everything in his power to protect Keith. Iliana had betrayed them once and Lance would be a fool to let it happen again. He was going to protect Keith, no matter what the cost. Even if it meant getting on Keith’s bad side. 

It wasn’t about forgiving Iliana, it was about Keith’s safety. 

“And you believe this is the right course of action to take?” Shiro asked, his voice bringing Lance back to attention. 

“I do,” she said, taking a short pause to look at Iliana. “I believe the advantages outweigh the cons.” 

“You guys started without us,” Lance said flatly. Allura faced them for the first time since the two had entered the room to attend the meeting. 

“My apologies, Lance, Keith,” she said. “It’s true we started this discussion, but we would have waited to make the final decision until you arrived.” 

“Well,” Keith cut in, “we’ve arrived.” 

So Allura cut to the chase. 

“We’ve resolved to return Iliana to her home planet,” she said. “There’s no reason to keep her prisoner on our ship. We’re endangering her by keeping her, too.” 

Lance could understand not wanting to force anyone into the direct line of fire, but it was Iliana’s fault she got into this position in the first place. She had made a conscious decision to side with Lotor before coming to her senses, after all. 

“Why are we going out of our way to help her when _she’s_ the reason we’re in this mess in the first place!” said Lance, throwing the I’viran princess a dark glare. 

“ _Lance,_ ” Keith hissed. 

“No, mullet,” he shot back, waving at him. “Don’t try to defend her. You know I’m right.” 

“This isn’t about her alone,” Allura said, stopping the budding argument between them in its tracks. “We must return her to her father and maintain our peace treaty with I’vira.”

“As paladins our top priority is the Voltron Coalition and gaining as many allies as we can,” added Shiro. 

“And now that one of her own people have seen firsthand the dangers of the Galra, maybe they will be more understanding when it comes to accepting our terms,” finished Allura. Iliana let her head fall, shame evident despite her obscured features. 

Lance sighed. He had to admit that returning Iliana home would mean she would be far away from Keith, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do harm. 

“What if she sends another transmission to the Galra again?” he asked. 

“I won’t,” Iliana said under her breath. 

“We have no reason to believe anything she says,” Lance barked back. From out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Keith open his mouth to retaliate. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Allura spoke up. 

“She will not repeat her mistakes—we’ve come to an agreement,” Allura assured him. “I shall explain the situation to her father, so he isn’t lead to believe we kidnapped his daughter. Then she will ensure this doesn’t happen again by handing over all forms of communication the monarchy has with the Galra.” 

“And if her father doesn’t comply?” asked Lance. 

“He either agrees with our terms or he risks losing our protection,” said Allura. 

“Plus, we could dismantle their transmission tech and turn it against the Galra,” Pidge said. “So I really do think this is a decent plan.” Lance fought back a groan and failed. Keith shot him a sharp look. 

“Let me guess, you still want to let her wander around freely too?” Lance asked. 

“She is not our prisoner, Lance,” said Allura, her tone having gone cold. “I will not lock someone up based on fear alone.” 

“She’s apologized. You need to move on,” Keith growled, leveling a piercing glare at Lance. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you!” said Lance. 

“And I never asked you to,” Keith shouted back, his voice raising to match Lance’s. Lance winced. “I can handle myself, Lance!” 

“That isn’t—“ 

“This meeting has been adjourned,” Allura said. “You two figure this out on your own. In the meantime, Shiro?” 

She gave him a meaningful look, to which Shiro nodded. They began to cross the room to another exit, connecting to a separate room, when Keith called after her. He clearly didn’t want to stay behind and have this argument with Lance. 

“Have you seen Coran?” he asked. 

“Ah, forgive me. I forgot to tell you. He’s in the pod bay,” she told him, before leaving with Shiro. Pidge, Hunk, and Iliana remained. The atmosphere was incredibly stilted and awkward. 

Lance reached out to Keith, only to have Keith smack his hand away. He let out a small noise that was more of surprise than it was hurt. The hurt was more emotional than it was physical, anyway. 

“Keith, I wasn’t—I just care about you—“ 

“Apparently not enough to trust me,” Keith sneered. It twisted up his features in a way that had Lance’s heart clenching, and not in a good way. He took a step back. 

“Wh… of course I do,” Lance said, hurt by Keith’s conviction. “What are you talking about?” 

“I _told_ you that Iliana made a mistake. Why are you so hard on her?” said Keith, livid now. “She isn’t a bad person—why can’t you trust me on this?” 

Lance wasn’t trying to defame Keith’s judge of character. This was about Iliana and her betrayal. The two weren’t connected… were they? Lance didn’t think so before, but now he was starting to second guess himself. Clearly unsatisfied by Lance’s lack of reply, Keith stomped off, huffing. 

“I’m going to talk to Coran,” he said, then he was gone. Pidge let out a low, unimpressed whistle. 

“You messed up pretty bad there, lover boy,” she said helpfully. Lance grumbled before gnawing on his lower lip, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Didn’t those heal in the pod?” Hunk asked. 

It took a moment for Lance to realize Hunk was talking to him, and then another to realize Hunk was staring at the hickeys spotting his neck. Lance fought down a violent blush. For all things holy, he hoped his efforts were enough. 

“Oh, he didn’t get those in battle,” Pidge said, ever insinuative. She even had the gall to raise an amused brow. 

“ _Shush_ you,” he shot back with a narrowing gaze. “Aren’t you, like, nine?” 

“Eight and a half, actually,” she said, smiling. 

“Uh, pardon my intrusion.” 

The language had Lance thinking Allura had returned, but he knew that was not the case. This particular princess didn’t have a British accent. Lance turned to face Iliana, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Can we help you?” 

“I was wondering…” she began, hesitant but insistent. “May I speak to you, Red’s— _Keith’s_ knight in shining armor?” Blushing furiously, he fights off his friends’ teasing before pulling Iliana aside. 

“Don’t call him that!” he scolded. Iliana wore a fixed expression. 

“Am I wrong?” she asked. Lance had forgotten about the serum—until now, that is. 

“No,” he said. A stream of expletives fell from his lips as his blush deepened. He kept his back to his friends. They were still laughing. 

“Can you guys shut up!” Lance shouted over his shoulder. The laughter faded as the hissing of a door overtook the sound, followed by silence. Hunk and Pidge had left. 

“So… is that a yes?” Iliana asked. Lance looked at her for a long, trying period of time. He wanted to go after Keith, but he knew he had to deal with this first. 

“Fine.”

———

True to Allura’s word, Keith had found Coran in the pod bay. Coran, as usual, was scrubbing away at the pods, whistling an unfamiliar tune. Keith kept his distance, not wanting to scare him away with the proximity. 

“Hey, Coran,” said Keith. He tried to sound the farthest from intimidating as possible. To his disappointment, Coran jumped at the greeting, spinning on his heels to face the red paladin. 

“AH, what a… a welcome surprise!” Coran said. Keith regarded the way Coran was slowly inching back with a pang of remorse. 

“I’m here to apologize, nothing else,” he said. He even rose his hands up in surrender to express his sincerity. “Because… I really am sorry. I just—I thought he… you really had me thinking Lance wasn’t going to make it. It got to me. Bad.” 

Coran calmed, his raised shoulders dropping into a relaxed posture. Now reverting to his old, casual self, Coran leaned up against a pod. He rubbed clean the monitor installed adjacent to the pod, though remained attentive and engaged in the conversation, his eyes not leaving Keith. It was appreciated but slightly disarming. Unlike Lance, Keith didn’t like being the center of attention. 

“I regret to say I’m intimately familiar with the feeling of loss,” said Coran. He was beginning to slack off on the wiping down of the monitor. Keith internally smacked himself. 

_Way to go, genius,_ his inner voice derided him. _Why don’t you remind of him of his mortality too while you’re at it?_

“I didn’t mean to…” 

“Remind me of my home?” said Coran with a meek smile. Keith dipped his head apologetically. 

“Don’t be,” Coran said. A full, authentic smile grew from the feeble one. “The memories may be bittersweet, but I am glad to have them.” 

Keith was plunged into an unpleasant silence. How he wished for nothing more than to have Lance’s ability to talk endlessly and without shame. Coran had returned to disinfecting the glass of the pods. Keith was torn between attempting idle conversation to just straight-up leaving. At some point, he resigned himself to the latter. Only feet away from reaching the entryway, Coran spoke once more. 

“I appreciated the apology, my boy,” he said. “And I’m sorry I worried you.” 

Keith felt much better.

———

“You hate me.” 

Iliana was standing in front of Lance, those three words spoken bereft of any emotion. At least, if there was any, it was undetectable. She was steady on her feat, with no nervous ticks to speak of. It just made Lance more uneasy. 

“Why?” she asked. 

“Oh, let’s see. First, you tried to forcibly marry Keith,” Lance said, enumerating on his fingers. “Second, you betrayed us for the Galra. Third, you almost got Keith _killed._ But yeah, I wonder what’s to hate.” He rubbed his jaw, feigning reflection. 

She doesn’t respond, and Lance was spurred on. 

“If you’re here because you want my forgiveness, let me save you the effort,” he said. “It isn’t happening.” 

The I’viran princess suddenly glanced up, eyes shining in fury and full offense. If she didn’t look so incensed, he would’ve guessed she was on the brink of tears. Lance couldn’t say her crying was the last thing on his mental list of expectations, because it wasn’t even on the list to begin with. Thrown off by her abrupt intensity, he grew hushed. 

“I would not ask for something I am far from deserving,” she said in rebuttal. Her eyes glistened, but she stood her ground. 

_She looks… serious._ It was really throwing Lance off. 

“Wh… wait, really?” he asked. Iliana kept up her genuine yet determined expression. She gave no verbal answer, as if her gaze was well enough of one. 

“Why are you here then?” Lance questioned, arching a brow. 

“I wanted to explain myself,” she said. “It was the least I could do.” 

Lance paused to debate with himself; the doubt was really starting to settle in his chest. Maybe Keith was right. Maybe she deserved a second chance. 

“…okay.” 

“Really?” she said. Her astonishment was not lost on him. 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he replied, leaning back on the balls of his feet. “Start talking.” 

“Okay,” Iliana muttered. 

Her eyes fell and flicked between different points of the floor, avoiding meeting Lance’s gaze. The furtive look she wore clued into Lance that she was thinking hard. He would have appreciated the amount of thought she was putting into it—if he was sure he was being genuine. 

“Well, to address your first point, I wanted to marry Keith because I…” she said, growing embarrassed in anticipation. “I was desperate for someone who stood up for me—just like Keith did. I guess I just clung to the gesture, which ended with me clinging to him. When, in actuality, I didn’t really like him that way.” 

“He stood up for you _once_ and you thought you fell for him?” he said, agape. She shuffled in place. 

_And Pidge calls me a hopeless romantic._

“You don’t understand. Height is something valued above all else in my homeland, and as the heir to the crown my shortness doesn’t do much to gain my people’s respect,” Iliana said and wrung her hands. “I’ve always been underestimated and ridiculed because of my height.” 

Lance understood expressly what she was referring to. He worked hard in the Garrison, and when he finally became a pilot, Iverson—along with the majority of others—did not let him go a day without reminding him he didn’t deserve the spot he was give. To remind him that he did not earn his place but got lucky because Keith was expelled. It hurt. 

That pain had manifested in a one-sided rivalry with Keith, which took Lance a long time to realize—frankly, too long. 

Lance recognized the profound pain in insecurity. 

“Then Keith came along, and didn’t seem to care about any of that. I was surprised at how short he was too, especially for a Galra,” she said. Lance snorted, though he kept an amused smirk from surfacing. She hadn’t redeemed herself enough for that yet. 

“I felt understood for once, rather than teased or patronized. And then… he left,” she said, her expression pained. “I was alone all over again, and I had to deal with the constant mocking and I… I couldn’t. That’s why I gave in to Lotor’s offer. I was weak, and I’m sorry my weakness got your love hurt.” 

An onslaught of retorts entered his mind. 

_You’re not weak for wanting to be treated right._

He then stopped, because _why am I thinking in her defense?_

Followed by an overdue: _My love? Is that what she called him?_

But none left his lips. 

“You know, if I had found out you lied to get Keith out of an engagement with me when we first met, I probably would have thrown a fit with how blinded I was. I was pathetically childish back then,” she admitted. "But now… it was odd to think he didn’t realize how gone for him you were. Especially with how well you two fit one another. Humans really are a strange breed.” 

The princess’ candidness was throwing him off again. Even so, his mind absorbed her speech, mulling over each and every word until he arrived at one, simple conclusion. 

“It’s okay,” Lance said, still and unruffled. 

“What?” she said, more out of disbelief than question. 

“When you said you’re sorry that my lo-… Keith got hurt,” said Lance. “I’m saying I forgive you.” 

“I—wha? But you said—“

“I know what I said. You still did something incredibly wrong, but you realized that and tried to atone for it,” he said. He took the time for a quiet pause. “I know what it feels like to want to be better.” 

She was shaking her head at that. 

“I didn’t come for that, honestly,” she murmured. “I really don’t deserve your forgiveness…” 

“Prove yourself wrong,” Lance said naturally. 

“How? How am I meant to do that?” 

“By improving yourself,” he said. The statement was simple but could not be more fitting. 

“When you get home, become a ruler that you would be proud of,” Lance continued. “Do good by us—by the Voltron Coalition.” 

Lance only ever saw the same level of awe that widened her eyes in reverent aliens who believed Voltron to be a mere children’s tale. Maybe she had been mentally displaced by how smoothly he had forgiven her. Nonetheless, what mattered most was that she took what he had said to heart. In due time Lance would see the effects of his decision. For now, though…

He was going to trust Keith. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Lance said. “I have a boyfriend to find.”

———

Despite Lance’s claim, he had one pitstop in mind before he went off to apologize to Keith. 

He had entered the adjacent room to the control bay, finding Shiro and Allura in front of a wide stretch of window. The two were delved in a deep conversation about the Coalition’s future prospects, so much so that they didn’t notice Lance’s arrival. 

“Allura,” Lance said, attracting their attention. “I need a favor.” 

“Is that right?” she said. It wasn’t accusatory or cold, but curious. 

“Did you work everything out with Keith?” Shiro asked. 

“That’s actually what I’m here for,” said Lance. “I was wondering if we could make a short trip to Amora?” 

“Why?” she asked. Lance faltered. He wasn’t sure how much he was willing to reveal. The truth didn’t wait, though. Honesty trickled from his mouth. 

“I… might have lost something important. For Keith’s sake, I want to get it back,” he said. If he could retrieve the bracelet Callidus gave him, he could wear it as a symbol of his affection. Its expressive glowing was a bonus, too. 

_I want Keith to always know how much I care about him,_ he thought as a wave of fondness washed over him. It was the least he could do after everything Keith went through because of him. 

“I’ll permit it,” she said. Allura hadn’t put up a fight. 

“Wait, seriously? You mean that?” Lance said. 

“On one condition—“ Lance groaned as Allura went on, “—we go after dropping off Iliana. It’ll take us around a week to get there, so I must prioritize the shorter trip to I’vira.” 

“We’ll be arriving at I’vira later today,” Shiro added helpfully. “So we’d head out tonight.” 

“Okay,” he said, giving a grateful smile. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” 

With that, Lance left the duo to their devices. 

Finding Keith was easier than Lance thought it out to be; he didn’t have to look very far. As predicted, Lance found him on the training deck. He was blowing off steam, bayard out and his cropped jacket off as he fought the Gladiator. Lance admired him openly, taking gratification out of no longer needing to hide his feelings. 

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Lance,” Keith grunted, swinging his bayard. He nimbly dodged a slash from the Gladiator, lunging right. 

“You were right,” Lance clamored over the sound of swords clashing. 

Keith deactivated his bayard, sheathing it as he commanded the Gladiator to turn off. Sweat trickled down his fair skin—which was flushed from exercise. Keith stalked past him, grabbing a towel to wipe himself down. Lance silently mourned the loss of a hot and sweaty Keith. 

“I’m sure I was,” Keith said, “but about what?” 

“About how I treated Iliana,” said Lance. That certainly caught Keith’s attention. When their eyes met, Keith looked dubious. 

“Are you just saying that so I’m not mad at you anymore?” Keith asked. Lance tilted his head to the side, an undeniable sadness befalling his features. The puppy eyes were unintentional but effective nevertheless. 

“You really think I’d do that?” Lance whispered. 

Keith stepped forward, sighing as he slung his arms around Lance’s waist. Lance quivered pleasantly at the contact. He pulled Lance in, and Lance let him, leaving a breadth of an inch between their bodies. Violet eyes grazed up gradual and slow until they met deep blue ones, sharing an enigmatic look. 

“No… I’m just—“ Keith inhaled sharply. “I don’t mind us fighting, it’s… it’s important to talk things out, but I am upset that you don’t trust me, Lance.” 

“I _do_ ,” said Lance, devoted to proving Keith’s wariness wrong. 

“Then why do you keep doubting me? Doubting her?” Keith questioned. 

“It wasn’t about her, mullet, it was about you,” he said. He placed heavy emphasis on the last word. “I wanted to trust you, but I was scared of losing you all over again and…” Lance closed his eyes. "I let my fear get to me. I got overprotective when I shouldn’t have and I let you down because of it. I’m sorry.” 

Calloused hands came up from Lance’s waist to his face. Since his eyes were closed, he flinched at the touch, unable to expect what he could not see. Keith stopped, giving Lance the chance to move away if he wanted to. Lance didn’t want to though—so once he had adjusted, Keith gradually started moving again. Mimicking the move Lance had done when Keith had hyperventilated in the pod bay, Keith pressed his forehead to Lance’s. Heat came off Keith in waves, from his forehead to the breath skimming across Lance’s lips as Keith spoke. 

“You could never let me down, sharpshooter,” said Keith. His lips brushed over Lance’s just barely, bordering on a full-lipped kiss. Despite how chaste it was, the kiss sent a tremor akin to a lightning bolt down his spine. 

“But thank you for apologizing,” Keith whispered. Lance could hear the smirk in his voice. His theory was confirmed when he opened his eyes and was confronted by a grinning Keith. 

“Wow, can you believe it?” Lance said. 

“Believe what?” 

“We got through our first disagreement as a couple,” he said, and Keith rolled his eyes. Keith paused a moment before he replied. 

“So… you really forgave Iliana?” asked Keith. 

“Yeah, we talked for a bit,” said Lance. “I didn’t think I would, but after hearing her out I… actually got where she was coming from.” 

The corners of Keith’s mouth curled upwards before he looked over his shoulder, debating something in his head. His hand clenched around his bayard and he drew it out. A devious glint shone in dark purple, and his gaze rose from his transformed sword to Lance. 

“Remember how you said you formed a broadsword on that Galra cruiser?” said Keith.

“…uh-huh?” 

“Wanna try it again? With my help, that is,” Keith offered with a smug grin. “Maybe you’d actually be able to wield it this time around.” 

The tease successfully got a rise out of Lance. He opened his mouth, but the only sound to be heard was the muffled noise of his stomach grumbling. It was then that Lance remembered they hadn’t eaten yet; he had passed on the chance of eating the night before, and wasn’t able to eat that morning on account of the team’s unceremonious meeting. 

“ _Ah…_ ” murmured Lance. 

“Breakfast first?” Keith supplied. Lance smiled up at his boyfriend. 

“Read my mind, sweetheart,” said Lance. The two left the training deck, fingers entwined together. 

“Actually, it was more of a _gut feeling_ than mind-reading,” said Keith. Lance paused, giving his boyfriend a wide, disbelieving look. 

“Was… was that a pun?” 

“…maybe,” Keith said, shielding his face by turning it in the other direction as they walked. In spite of that, Lance could hear his grin. 

“ _Oh my god,_ I love you so much.”

———

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of fleeting touches and secret kisses. They hadn’t officially announced their relationship to the team, but there really was no reason to—everyone already knew. It could even be debated that they knew before Keith and Lance did. But Keith enjoyed the physical acts of attention. Even so, Keith insisted that they kept the PDA to a minimum, not wanting to be excessive around the other members of their team. Lance couldn’t relate. 

When no one was looking, Lance would reach out, brushing up an arm again Keith’s or kissing any exposed skin he could find. It had even developed into a furtive game throughout the day. He attempted to push the boundaries amongst the crew, kissing Keith while trying to not get caught. The more precarious the risk, the better the payout was. His favorite example of this was when he had smacked Keith’s ass while he was talking to Shiro—the move going miraculously unnoticed by Shiro himself. It had Keith going red, prompting Shiro to ask Keith if he felt a fever coming on. 

Lance barely smothered a laugh. 

After a brief sparring session on the training deck, Lance and Keith were called to the control room. They had touched down on I’vira. Unlike before, Allura could land the Castle a few hundred feet from the kingdom, as they had gained the I’viran monarchy’s trust after Keith saved their princess. Now it was time for Keith and Allura to return said princess to her home. They were going to take Red the rest of the way, not wanting to walk through the desert for so long. Everyone was gathered in the lions’ hangar now, in front of Red, when Keith asked Lance if he wanted to come along. 

“Nah, it’s cool. I’ll pass,” Lance said with a bright smile. “I promise to be here when you get back, though.” 

“You sure?” Keith asked, giving him another chance to change his mind. 

“Why would I want to? I know you can handle yourself,” he said, then lowered his voice for only Keith to hear. Thankfully, the rest of the team was too busy giving Iliana their goodbyes to listen in anyway. 

“I really am sorry for getting so worked up and overprotective, Keith,” Lance said. “I trust you completely, and I’d follow you to the ends of the universe if you asked—you know, if I hadn’t already.”

Lance hoped he could garner a huff of amusement from the boy, or perhaps a charming eye-roll. He hadn’t even entertained the idea of Keith breaking out into a wide smile and pulling Lance in for a smothering kiss in front of the entire team. It left him breathless. After a whole day of being shy about PDA, it was a major understatement to say Lance was taken aback. When they broke apart, the couple was surrounded by a chorus of whooping and wolf whistles—the majority coming from Pidge and Hunk. 

“Keith’s got more game than you, Lance!” goaded Pidge. Lance hadn’t heard her, though. All his attention was focused on the red-cheeked boy who stared back at him with an enormous, toothy smile. Keith’s giddiness was infectious. 

“See you soon,” Keith promised.

———

The trio’s entrance into I’vira went smoothly. The citizens gawked at Red, who towered over the desert-dwelling beings. Allura took her time walking along the white-tiled path, leading up to the tower that served as Iliana’s home. Iliana even took the time to introduce her to the colorful expanse of marketplaces of her kingdom. Keith noticed the impressive, nearly incandescent array of colors were just as impactful as they had the first time he had seen them. 

The peace was short-lived. 

Whispers came around every corner and from alleys in passing, so it hadn’t taken long for the guards to catch word of Iliana’s return. The King had been notified, and guards were sent to fetch her. When confronted, the three of them agreed to go willingly, though Iliana did so begrudgingly. When Keith leaned in to question her reluctance, she grumbled back. 

“I’m not looking forward to explaining what happened to my father,” was all she said. 

“Don’t worry,” said Keith, “you aren’t alone anymore, okay?” Iliana relaxed at that, giving him a thankful side glance.

They entered the throne room with no trouble, coming to a stop before King Ivor. He seethed on the throne, both literally and figuratively looking down at the newcomers. As they slowed, the guards were excused, leaving the three of them alone with the King and his private bodyguards. Though the latter were intimating in both height and bulk, King Ivor was more so than the two of them combined. 

“I expect a _damn_ good explanation,” the king growled. The sound reverberated against the impeccably smooth, quartz walls. 

Needing no further prompting, Allura dove into a hefty explanation, with Iliana and Keith dropping additional comments when necessary. Words and time melded together as one until Allura finished her account of the past few days. Keith was grateful she had tagged along, as he would have struggled with this alone. 

Her retelling of recent events done, Allura stepped back, giving the King time to think. Going against the harsh demeanor he upheld upon their entry, Ivor broke down into tears, rushing down the steps of the dais to embrace his daughter. Iliana was not in a better state, returning the gesture as she sobbed back. From the looks of it, the King missed his daughter more than he was mad at her. 

“I must admit, I… did not foresee something like this,” Allura whispered to Keith. “Though I’m far from displeased.” 

Keith could only nod in wordless agreement. 

The rest of the day was underwhelming in the best way. Not once did Keith feel the need to reach for his bayard or send a glare someone’s way. The meeting proceeded with Ivor ensuring their treaty would continue and they would comply to the team’s terms. The deal went as well as it could go, really. 

Keith gladly received the change of pace. 

It seemed like only minutes had passed before they were taking their leave, accepting grateful handshakes and heartfelt goodbyes from Ivor and Iliana. Keith thought they were in the clear the moment before it happened. At the last possible second, Iliana tugged Keith into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, Keith,” she said, pulling away before Keith went taut in surprise. She turned to Allura. “I assure you, I’ll make you proud.” 

There was no doubt in his mind that she would follow through.

———

Lance didn’t wait around. 

The moment Red had left the hangar, he had spun on his heels to face Pidge. A plan formulating in his head, Lance’s mind raced ahead to create the perfect romantic getaway Keith deserved. After his first botched confession, he wanted to make it up to Keith. Luckily, he knew just the way to do it. 

“Hey Pidge, do you still have that camera?” 

“Of course,” she said, snorting. 

“Hunk, I’m gonna need your help too.”

———

A week passed and the serum in Lance’s system run its course the day before they arrived at Amora in the late evening. For once, everything was conveniently going Lance’s way. He managed to keep the whole plan under wraps too. That is, until they landed on the aforementioned planet, reaping surprised confusion from Keith. While the rest of the team went off on their own, either to explore or meeting with the Amorai leaders, Lance carted Keith down a familiar path. Keith accompanied him without protest. 

The entire ambience of Amora had shifted from the last time they had visited. After all, they were in between their monthly carnival celebrations, so the distinct exuberance and kaleidoscope of colors was replaced by the tame but all-encompassing nature of the planet. Verdant vegetation grew everywhere. From cracks in the stone footpaths to the open space around buildings, flora sprouted, flourishing in whatever space it could. 

It was gorgeous—the perfect setting for what Lance had planned. 

“So do you actually have someplace in mind or are you just trying to take me somewhere to make out?” Keith asked. Though the former was true, Lance didn’t want to reveal that quite yet. 

“Would you be less inclined if I told you it was the second option?” Lance asked back. Keith’s grip around Lance’s hand tightened temporarily as he leaned in and kissed Lance’s cheek. 

“More, actually,” Keith corrected with a self-satisfied smile. 

Lance did his best recalling the directions he had mapped out in his head, leading Keith further and further away from the city’s center. He hoped the city was different enough for Keith not to recognize where they were going. That also proved to be problematic for Lance, though, since most of the streets now seemed unfamiliar. For a while, Lance worried that he was headed in the wrong direction. He would panic if that were the case, as he had no idea how he was going to explain this screwup to Keith. 

However, the moment he came to pass the familiar framework of Callidus’ shop, he was disabused of the notion. He smiled to himself, thinking up a ‘thank you’ and sending it Callidus’ way. Deep down, somehow, Lance knew he was heard. Then again, Lance knew it could just have been wishful thinking. He decided he didn’t mind. 

“…do we really have to walk this far for a kiss?” said Keith. He was pressing his side into Lance’s, and Lance relished the affectionate contact. 

“Nope,” he replied simply. Keith groused at that, but didn’t object further. 

Excitement jump-started Lance’s nerves, and Lance had to forcibly hold back the skip in his step. He wanted to maintain the mystery until the last possible moment. Thankfully, Keith seemed content with walking in tandem with him. 

They came to the end of the cobble road, entering the wide vastness of wilderness surrounding the Amorai metropolis. Trees were packed together, shielding the two of them in the opening in the forest. Lance moved forward, turning on his feet to walk backwards onto the bridge, facing Keith in the process. He took both of Keith’s hands into his own, grinning as he stopped in the center of the bridge. 

Around this time, twilight had fallen like a gentle blanket over the planet. Without sunlight, the surrounding flora provided radiant light. Each shroom, flower, and shred of grass had a varying, bioluminescent hue that set a beautiful and peaceful mood. The stars hanging above begun to peek out, hesitant but gradually growing brighter over their heads. It was like the first time they came here, but better. Lance had Keith in his arms, expectant but unhurried as he waited for Lance to proceed. It was perfect. 

“I wanted to give you these,” Lance said, revealing a bundle of photographs he had brought with him. Keith was slow on the uptake, but eventually reached out, taking the pictures in his hands. 

The highlights of the photographs included the picture of Keith asleep in his lap, and a few furtive additions from Pidge that she had taken over the past few days when Lance wasn’t looking. _Pidge was right. I_ definitely _want to show these off now that we’re together._ Most of the time, Lance looked pretty ridiculous, but in retrospect, he could only spare himself a laugh. Lance even slipped in a few extra photos that showed the progression of Lance shooting the camera a kiss and making a heart with his hands. 

“These… who took these?” he asked, hushed. 

“Pidge,” Lance replied. “I had to get Hunk to build an entire printer too.” 

“ _That’s_ why you’ve been keeping me away from their lab the past few days,” Keith said, mostly to himself. His eyes hadn’t left the photos. 

“Listen… I may mess up a lot and not know how to express myself in the right ways,” said Lance, gaining confidence the longer he spoke. “But if I ever do anything to make you doubt my love, I want you to look at these as a reminder. I even included the pictures Pidge took of me when I looked _incredibly_ un-photogenic. And if that doesn’t convince you I care, then I don’t know what will.” 

Lance paused as he took in the shocked awe on Keith’s face. His heart pounded frantically against his chest in a futile attempt to escape his ribcage and his smile was so wide it hurt. 

“I mean, obviously talk to me too, so I can stop screwing up, but I know sometimes you might not feel like talking to me,” Lance said, noting Keith wasn’t the extrovert he was. “So even when you’re by yourself, I want you to know you’re not alone.” Keith looked up at him. 

“I don’t know what to say…” Keith murmured. Though there was an overwhelming degree of emotion shimmering in his eyes, it was nothing when compared to the emotion in his voice. 

“I do have one last thing, though,” said Lance. “I didn’t come back to the place of my first—and completely _misunderstood_ —confession to you for show.” Keith arched a brow. 

“So you _didn’t_ bring me here to remind me of my own stupidity?” Keith teased. “That’s be a first.” Lance returned his sarcastic tone in kind. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” he replied. 

“I learned from the best,” Keith said, dropping the deadpan look for an amused smile. Lance rolled his eyes but smiled back. 

“C’mon, princess,” Lance said, immensely how that pet name always garnered a blush from the other paladin. “We’re going to find my bracelet.” 

“We came all this way for that?” huffed Keith. Lance was already hopping off the bridge and down into the dry riverbed below, scouring the plant-life. 

“Yep,” Lance said. “That way, you’ll always know how I feel. You know, on the rare occasion that I shut up.” 

“I can’t argue with that,” Keith joked, jumping down to join him. Lance shot him a look before they set off. Lance stayed in the general vicinity of the bridge, as Keith ventured out further. 

Lance couldn’t focus, though. His gaze kept being drawn back to Keith, watching him fondly as he searched for Lance’s lost bracelet. His brows were furrowed tightly together in concentration, biting his bottom lip, too lost in his search to notice Lance’s staring. It was an adorable look on Keith. 

“Found it!” Keith shouted, dropping down to pick it up. “Guess I win, then, huh?” 

Lance grumbled as he walked over, peeved as he came to a stop in front of Keith. And when he did, Keith kneeled in front of him, taking Lance’s hand in both of his and slipping on the bracelet. Lance held his breath. In one smooth motion, Keith moved to kiss Lance’s knuckles, evoking a deep purple glow from the plaited metal that had Keith smiling. 

He then begun kissing up Lance’s arm, starting on the top of Lance’s hand, then to his inner wrist, continuing up until Keith had risen to his feet. Then, as a finishing move, he embraced Lance in a raw, tender, and compassionate kiss that left Lance’s entire body tingling. So when Keith pulled away, Lance said it. 

“I love you, Keith,” Lance said, and the bracelet’s glow intensified. “I love you so, so much.” 

“Oh,” was all Keith said, blinking. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” Lance asked, leaning in to catch Keith’s rapidly softening gaze. 

“No, it’s just—it’s the first time you’ve said that without the serum in your system,” said Keith. 

“So?” 

“Well… if I’ve learned anything from the horror of Altean truth serum, it’s that being forced to speak the truth isn’t nearly as hard as speaking it willing,” Keith explained. Lance snorted, despite how solemn Keith was acting. 

“Are you seriously trying to come up with some enlightening point out of all of this?” he said, goading Keith. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“Make me, nerd.” 

And Keith did. 

They stayed there, lost to time as they enjoyed each other’s company. There was still a war to fight and a home to return to, but for now, this was more than enough. This might have been the end of the truth serum mayhem, but for the two of them, it was just their beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you _believe_ we made it this far? genuinely, i couldn’t have made it here without all of your constant support. each comment made my day, and i loved talking with all of you. even though words can’t express my gratitude, thank you so much :)
> 
> now that you’ve finished this mess, you might be wondering what to do with your life. ~~oh. just me? cool cool.~~ so i thought i’d tell you i actually have a few other works you can check out if you’d like. now that this fic is done, i will return my focus to them completely and finish those as well. 
> 
> here are the links (plus brief summaries), for those of you who are ~~for some reason~~ interested: 
> 
> • Frozen Heartbeat : Keith gets ‘space hypothermia’ and his only source of warmth is Lance. lots of fluff and angst ensues   
> • We Hate Keith Club : an actor AU where Keith has to hide he’s gay, while Lance tries to teach Keith to accept himself; all the while they act as characters who are falling in love and try not to do so themselves   
> • UnMasked : a superhero AU that’s been on the back burner for a while; updates for this last fic will be significantly slower than the other two 
> 
> i also have a oneshot in the works, which will come out sometime next month.   
> if the links don’t work (which has happened before), you can click on my profile instead. 
> 
> for the final time, thank you. i don’t care how redundant i sound.   
> your support means the world.   
> <3


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